


The Greatest Thing

by Labyrinth_Runner



Category: Moulin Rouge! (2001)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Moulin Rouge!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Labyrinth_Runner/pseuds/Labyrinth_Runner
Summary: When a woman reunites with an old friend during her first ever social season, she learned that the greatest thing she'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
Relationships: Christian (Moulin Rouge!)/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	1. There Was A Boy

Estelle Devereux stood in the hall, waiting for her turn to be announced. Queen Charlotte's Ball was something she'd dreamed about since she was a girl. This would be the night she'd be introduced to society. However, lately she felt as though she was a prized animal on her way to be sold to the highest bidder. She bit her lip, bouncing on her toes slightly. A hand came out to squeeze hers and she looked at the owner affectionately.

"It's alright to be nervous, Elle," her best friend, Annalise, told her. "But, remember that it's just a party."

They heard the heralds sound the trumpet, signaling the arrival of Queen Victoria on the opposite side of the doors.

"A very elaborate party," Estelle replied sardonically.

Annalise nudged her with her elbow and she cracked a smile.

"That's more like it, Elle. Besides, who knows who might be on the other side of that door," Annalise grinned.

"Queen Victoria," Estelle smirked.

" _Besides_ the Queen," Annalise said with a roll of her eyes. "You might meet the one. Or, at the very least, some entertaining people that may become your friend."

"I wish I had your outlook on things, Anna," Estelle said wistfully. Ever since her mother died, her father had been urging her that she'd have to make a good match. She never quite understood why. After all, her parents had married for love. Why couldn't she? She shook herself from her reverie as the doors opened. Gently, she smoothed over the fabric of her green dress. She smiled softly at the gown her mother had designed before she died, specifically for her debut. To see it come to fruition made her happy. Her heart clenched at the thought that if only her mother could see her now, with her frilly sleeves and floral pattern beaded into the fabric. She supposed she looked beautiful. The line of ladies started to move and one-by-one they were introduced to the queen next to the cake.

"Your majesty," Estelle said with a deep curtsy to the queen.

"Devereux..." the queen murmured. "Tell us, are you of any relation to a Margaret?"

Estelle respectfully looked down. "Yes, your majesty. She was my mother."

"We are sorry for your loss," the Queen said with a small smile, lifting her hand so that Estelle would straighten herself out. "Your mother made quite the impression during her social season. We look forward to watching your experience."

The Queen nodded at Estelle, letting her know she was dismissed, and the line continued on. Estelle made her way into the crowd of partygoers. She scanned the room for the familiar flash of pink dress that was Annalise. With a smile, she made her way over, but she stopped in her tracks when she noticed who her friend was with. _Christian_. Her face broke out in a smile as she tried to get there as quickly as possible without making a fool of herself.

"Elle, there you are!" Annalise beamed when she turned to her friend. "How did your introduction go?"

Her words could have fallen on deaf ears as she watched Estelle and Christian regard each other. However, Annalise, ever the trooper, kept going.

"My introduction went fairly well. I figured I'd get a glass of something to drink and wait for you. While you were occupied, I met Mr. Thompson," Annalise explained. "Mr. Thompson, this is my friend-"

"Ellie," Christian beamed at her.

"Oh, you two know each other," Annalise remarked.

Estelle's eyes never left Christian as she responded. "We were friends a long time ago. It's been ages since we've seen each other," she murmured.

Christian smiled softly at her, taking her hand and gently kissing it. "' _Were_ ' friends? Darling, I thought we still are."

Estelle flushed scarlet, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she avoided his gaze. "I suppose we've both changed quite a bit since we last spoke. We're proper strangers now."

Gently, he dropped her hand when it was no longer proper to hold it. Already, she missed the contact.

"Perhaps a dance is in order to get reacquainted," Annalise suggested.

Estelle's eyes flicked over to her friend. _What was she playing at?_ Annalise just winked at her.

"May I have this dance, Ms. Devereux?" Christian asked, holding his hand out to her.

Part of her felt like taking his hand would imply giving him more than a dance, but she didn't care. She placed her hand in his. "You may, Mr. Thompson."

Christian led her to the middle of the ballroom. He bowed, she curtsied, and then they started to dance. Estelle felt like she was soaring above the crowd, or at least like they were the only two people in the room. A wistful smile came over his face as they twirled around the room to the waltz currently being played by the band.

"Is something amusing you, Mr. Thompson?" Estelle asked with a tilt of her head.

He looked down at her, blue eyes sparkling at whatever he was thinking. "I'm simply reminiscing. Do you remember all the times we used to dance?"

Estelle chuckled, drawing looks from surrounding couples who were dancing. "I don't believe you could call what we used to do dancing. We lacked rhythm and form. It wasn't anywhere near as elegant as this."

"No, but it was decidedly more fun," he replied with a lopsided grin.

The song came to an end and they regrettably parted ways as another man asked Estelle to dance. The other gentleman twirled her around, but it just wasn't the same. Her eyes caught Christian's over the man's shoulder as they passed by and he smiled. When the song ended, she made her way off the dance floor and out into the garden before anyone else could ask her to dance. The air was cool, but refreshing on her heated skin. She hadn't expected to see Christian at this ball. Although, she shouldn't have been too surprised. The Thompsons were a respectable family. Respectable enough to have an estate that was next to theirs in the country. Or at least... next to what _used_ to be their estate in the country. Estelle leaned forward to smell a rose, closing her eyes to truly enjoy it.

"You always did like to stop and smell the roses," a voice said from behind her.

She smiled, keeping her eyes closed as she straightened. "Flowers grow to be enjoyed. Certainly, they are beautiful, Mr. Thompson, but surely we should appreciate more than just their beauty? Especially when they have other lovely qualities to offer."

She turned to regard him, carefully taking him in. He'd grown so much since they'd parted, but yet so much about him was the same. He was taller, more handsome, but he still had that same spark in his eyes. A spark she hoped he'd never let die. She gestured to the rose, encouraging him to smell it's fragrance.

"Do you feel like a flower?" he asked thoughtfully as he came over and bent at the waist to inhale. The sweetest smile crossed his face as he straightened.

"Is a woman not a flower?" she asked in response. "If one looked at the ball room like a bird in a tree looks over a garden, would they not see the same sight? Women in colorful dresses, putting on their best airs and making themselves colorful enough to be wanted in order to attract the bees of men."

His brow furrowed at her words. "You speak like a poet. Darling, what's wrong with attracting a bee?"

She smiled knowingly, wagging a pointed finger at him like she used to when they were children and she needed to teach him a lesson. "Bees pollinate flowers. They spread the pollen 'round and round. Bees have the ability to seek out other flowers when theirs start to wither and die. Bees don't have to tend to the flower as it dies on the vine," she gently reached out to hold a dying rose, smiling sadly at it. "No one wants the flower when its not at its best, for they don't truly love the flower. If they did... they'd know that the flower still had so much more to give, even after it looses its beauty."

He smiled at her as he softly asked, "And if someone cherished the flower in all forms?"

"Because they respected the flower or merely because they saw the usefulness of the flower?" she countered as she released the flower to regard him. She didn't quite realize it, but she was holding her breath as she awaited his answer.

"Perhaps they respect the flower, missing it terribly when it doesn't grow back every year. Still, as they're in the garden, they think of the flower and how the garden isn't quite the same without it," he replied.

"You missed me?" she asked breathlessly.

"Are we no longer discussing flowers?" he chuckled.

"Were we ever discussing flowers?" she countered with a raised brow.

"I have missed you," Christian replied. "When you didn't come back the following summer and someone else moved into the manor..."

"Father sold it when mother started to get sick. He said that moving around so often would be bad for her health," Estelle replied.

"I am so deeply sorry about your mother," he said, taking her hand. "Maggie was an incredible woman. Just like you."

"Thank you," Estelle blushed as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "You know, I never stopped thinking about you after we left. I regretted not being able to say goodbye."

"It wasn't a goodbye," Christian murmured. "I don't think there's a goodbye in the cards for _us_ until we're old and gray."

She shook her head slightly at him, but a smile graced her face. "Mr. Thompson, you have grown."

"As have you," he smiled as they started to walk down a garden path.

"How many seasons have you been here for?" she asked curiously.

"Three, darling. They get harder and harder as the time goes on," he chuckled.

"Harder how?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"Perhaps 'harder' wasn't the correct term," he said thoughtfully. " _Stifling_. Yes, they get more stifling. Although, I guess that is high society as a whole."

"Oh? Enlighten me, Mr. Thompson, what exactly is _so_ stifling about the London season?" Estelle asked in amusement, humoring him as they came to rest in front of a fountain in the garden. Gently, she sat on the edge, ever the captive audience.

"Well, darling, they put so much emphasis on the wrong things," he told her.

"Such as?"

"Well... Titles, wealth, outward beauty," he replied, eyes alight as he caught onto a train of thought, ready to ride it wherever it may lead. "It's all about making an advantageous match. Very rarely is it about love. It's about what you can _do_ for that person to help them get a leg up in society, not about what you could _be_ for that person, or what you can build together."

She tilted her head thoughtfully as she considered his words. "Survival of the fittest at its finest."

"Darwin, Ellie?"

She shrugged. "I may have been spending the past six years learning how to manage a household for a husband, but that doesn't mean I stopped educating myself on the world when I could."

He smiled. Yes, he may have changed, but she hadn't. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly. "Do you know what the problem is with society?"

"I'm sure there are many answers to that, but I'm interested to hear yours," she grinned.

"Everyone is too comfortable. They seek comfort in material things. Those things may make them physically comfortable, but those things don't soothe the soul," he replied enthusiastically. "None of those things matter in the end, and none of them are required to be truly happy. You can... you can have all the money in the world to buy all the prestige and material comforts you wanted and still be unhappy. What really matters... what's really _important_ are things like freedom, beauty, truth, and love."

It clicked in her mind why he was still here after three years. If he talked like this with anyone else, they would be scared to match with him. He threatened their livelihoods, believing in intangible things. Things that could be felt, but had no monetary value. Although, she'd heard of these ideas before, albeit briefly.

"You're speaking like a Bohemian," she finally said. It wasn't an accusation, nor was it an insult. She was merely stating a fact.

A wistful look crossed his face. "Yes, I suppose I am."

She gently took his hand, dropping formality. Society was in the ball room. Out here they were just two friends getting reacquainted. "Christian, why haven't you found someone?"

His face fell a bit as he looked to the ground, dejected. "I..." he sighed. "I suppose I'm still waiting for love. I know that's not necessary for a society marriage, but it's something I don't want to compromise on." He shook his head at the silliness of it.

"It's not wrong to want love," she said gently. "Especially when you'll be tied to that person for the rest of your lives."

"Whenever I start talking about these things, slowly people begin to shut me out," he said softly, "They think I'm foolhardy. In a way, I suppose they're right. There are real ramifications to running a house hold with someone. Should either person commit a crime, they are held responsible. But, if someone breaks your heart? If you trust someone enough to let them in, to see all your flaws and hopes, and they betray that trust... nothing happens to them. You're left with the pieces, but they're none the wiser. Only a fool would want to fall in love."

Estelle reached out to tip his chin up. His eyes flicked up to hers as she responded. "If _'love's reason's without reason_ ,' then only a fool _could_ fall in love," she said with a smile.

"Shakespeare," he smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered a bit longer than it should have.

Estelle cleared her throat. "I suppose we should return to the ball."

He nodded, standing to offer her his hand. Gingerly, she took it to stand. She smoothed out her dress and straightened her back.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding his arm out for her.

Tilting her chin up at him, she smiled. "We shall."

They returned to the ball room to enjoy what was left of the festivities, together. After a few more hours of dancing and interacting with society, Annalise appeared at Estelle's elbow.

"Elle, our carriage has arrived to take us home," Annalise informed her.

Elle nodded. "Very well."

Christian raised a brow at her. "May I call on you at home?"

"I would like that," she smiled. "Good night, Mr. Thompson."

"Have a safe trip home, Ms. Devereux," he smiled before nodding respectfully.

Estelle hooked her arm through Annalise's and walked out with her to the carriage. She looked out at the palace wistfully as the carriage pulled away.

"Well, that was certainly a fun night," Annalise beamed.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Anna," she grinned. "Did you meet _the_ one?"

Annalise shrugged. "I met a few gentlemen of great renown. I'm sure my parents would be proud if they chose to court me. I really just wanted to enjoy myself tonight and make friends."

Estelle smirked and shook her head at her friend.

"Now, _you_ on the other hand," Annalise said pointedly. "Seem to have already found a match."

"What are you talking about?" Estelle asked in confusion.

"Mr. Thompson. The two of you seem _quite_ smitten with one another," she teased.

"We're simply old friends catching up," she replied halfheartedly.

"Yes, well, you know what they say about houses, don't you?"

Estelle's nose scrunched up as she turned to face her friend, "No, Anna, what _do_ they say about houses?"

"They require a strong foundation in order to withstand the test of time."

Estelle blushed as she looked out the window. Perhaps she and Christian _could_ be something more. They were quite similar, and they had been good friends as children. Perhaps... perhaps Annalise was onto something. She couldn't deny that Christian was handsome. Not to mention, she enjoyed listening to him wax on about the Bohemian ideals. In a way, she did agree with most- if not all- the things he said. His family was of good social and financial standing, so her father would approve. He had also asked to call on her, so maybe he wanted to see if something could blossom for them. Although, friends also called on each other as well. She sighed softly. Only time would tell.


	2. A Very Strange Enchanted Boy

Estelle awoke the next morning with a smile on her face as she replayed the events of the night before in her mind. Part of her wondered if it had all been a dream. She had thought she would never see Christian again after they sold the manor in the countryside. Yet, here he was now. A knock sounded at her door and she stretched before sitting up.

"Who is it?"

"Elle, it's me!" came the chipper voice on the other side.

"Come in, Mary," she called out as she went to reach for her dressing gown.

Her younger sister, a ball of energy, came into the room and headed straight for her bed. She landed on it with a bounce. A part of her was amused at the difference in their appearance. While Estelle looked so much like their late mother, with her fair skin, dark curls, and blue eyes, Mary was the exact opposite. Her hair was blonde and sunny, her eyes brown and warm, and her skin had a glow to it. In the back of her mind, Estelle knew that Mary would have no problem finding a husband when she debuted.

"Well, you're certainly in high spirits this morning," Estelle teased as she pulled her gown around her and went across the hall to run a bath.

"When you didn't come home by the time I went to bed, I figured you must have had a grand time last night," her sister beamed as she took a pillow and held it tightly. "Tell me, sister, did you meet the one?"

Estelle had to laugh at her sister's wistfulness and hope. Her father had told Mary that she could marry for love provided that Estelle married someone of good standing. Yet, Mary never lost hope that Estelle could have both. It was refreshing, if not misplaced.

"Do you remember the Thompsons?" Estelle asked, coming back out to her room.

"Of course. You used to follow their son around everywhere. I remember being jealous of how close you two were. Thick as thieves, mother used to say. Why? Have you heard something about them?"

"In a way," Estelle grinned.

Mary's eyes widened. "Have you seen him again?"

Estelle nodded.

"Oh, Elle, tell me all about it!" Mary said in excitement.

"Well, he's grown up a bit, that much is apparent. Oh, Mary, he's grown _so_ handsome. He speaks so eloquently that all I want to do is listen to him talk about his hopes and dreams for hours on end. It almost pulls you in and makes you wish for the same," she said in all honesty.

"Do his hopes and dreams include you?" her sister teased.

"I'm not certain. He's been here for three social seasons now. He's made it known that he's looking for love, and that scares people," she murmured thoughtfully, remembering their conversation from the night before.

"Tell me, would you marry him if he asked? You two did always get along so nicely, not to mention his family is in good enough standing that it should satisfy father," Mary replied.

Estelle sighed as she sat down at her vanity. She pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself. "I think I would. I've always admired him. He has many qualities that I'd want in a husband, and I suppose a part of me always thought of what it would be like to be his wife when we were younger."

"Do you love him?" Mary asked, unable to hide her glee.

A blush crossed Estelle's fair face. "I only just reunited with him. We've both grown so much... We're practically strangers now."

"People may grow, but they never really change. If anything, they grow into stronger, more pronounced versions of what they were when they were younger," Mary commented.

Estelle tilted her head at her. "Since when do you have the sagely wisdom?"

Mary shrugged playfully, "Ms. Renton's younger brother and I have been studying a bit of philosophy between lessons."

Estelle winked. "You know, if you married young Mr. Renton, then Anna would be your sister-in-law. I know you've always preferred her over me."

"I do not!" Mary exclaimed as Estelle moved to turn off the bath.

"I'm only teasing you," she replied.

"Breakfast is in half an hour," Mary told her as she moved to leave. "I'm sure father will be most intrigued by the details of your debut."

Estelle winced. Although her father was good friends with Christian's father back in the day, she knew he would have liked her to cast a wider net last night. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach as she realized she would have to tell her father she had failed to interact with more members of society. She let out a heavy sigh as she stepped out of the discarded fabric at her feet and sunk into the bath. She wished that she could soak properly and relax, but she knew she'd have to be quick about washing up. Soon enough, she was out and wrapped in her towel. Estelle settled on a red dress, knowing that she was going to have tea with Annalise later in the day. It was one of her favorite dresses. Deep red with an embroidered top and bottom, sleeves that puffed out at her shoulders and tapered to her wrists, all tied with a black bow at the side of her hip. She especially enjoyed the matching hat and black parasol that went with it. Carefully, she pinned her curls in place for a simple updo. After giving herself a once-over in her mirror, she went down to breakfast.

Her father, George Devereux, was already seated at the head of the table. His glasses were low on the bridge of his nose. His dark blonde hair was graying in places, and his mustache was neat on his face. The clothes he wore were respectable, but not overtly flamboyant. Dull colors that spoke of no-nonsense or frivolous spending. The only thing out of place was the colorful handkerchief in his pocket, a present from his late wife for their last anniversary. He was a level-headed business man who worked in the trading of fabrics. It had bought him a respectable life, enough to earn a Count's daughter as a wife. Everyone had assumed that Estelle's mother had married below her station due to the uncertainty of new money, but the Devereux family had just been old money who had lost wealth due to mismanagement and then regained their standing. In fact, one of Estelle's distant cousins was a Duke of some sort, but he lived a lascivious lifestyle and therefore the family didn't associate with him very often out of fear of scandal.

Estelle's father looked up from his newspaper as she glided into the room and settled in her chair to his left. Mary sat opposite her on his right.

"Breakfast is served promptly at nine," her father told her, looking at her over the rim of his glasses.

Estelle looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It read nine 'o' two.

"I apologize, Father. Getting ready has taken a little longer than I'm used to lately since Lily is no longer with us," she replied, looking down. Having her maid leave had been an adjustment, but she'd been doing things by herself mostly for a while now. She just missed having someone to help pin the back of her head that she couldn't see. However, Lily had married someone and moved away. Estelle couldn't fault her for it.

Her father nodded and turned his attention back to the paper in his hand. "How did your debut go?"

Estelle knew what he really meant. "There were some suitable gentlemen there last night."

"Any of them promising?" he asked, not even looking at her.

"Perhaps," she replied, taking a sip of tea.

"Good. I expect a marriage proposal before the end of the season," he told her.

She smiled, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. "Of course, Father."

He folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. "I have to go to work, now. Our supplier from the East is haggling over prices again and I need this resolved before the week is out."

"Good luck, Father," Mary smiled as he got up from the table.

He smiled back at her before giving her a kiss on the top of her head, "Thank you, little one."

With a nod to Estelle, he left to go sort through his company's problems.

After he left, Estelle leaned back in her seat and sighed. "I don't want to disappoint him, but I do wish he wouldn't put so much pressure on this."

Mary leaned across the table and dropped some strawberries on her plate. "You could never disappoint him."

A wry smile crossed Estelle's face as she turned her attention back to eating her breakfast. _If Mary only knew_. Ever since her mother had passed, her father had been colder to her. She was less of a daughter and more of an asset. When she had first noticed it, she'd tried harder to be the best she could be, but it was never enough. It wasn't until she looked at some old portraits of her mother that she understood why. They looked too much alike. Seeing her reminded him so much of her mother. It made sense to Estelle, really. She was just a painful reminder of what he had lost too soon.

"Ms. Estelle, you have a visitor," the butler said, peaking his head into the room.

"Thank you, Robert. Have them wait in the study. I'll be in momentarily," Estelle told him as she finished her tea. "Who could be calling at this hour?"

Mary shrugged, "Someone who clearly couldn't wait to see you."

They shared a wide-eyed look of realization.

"Well, stop talking to me and go see him!" Mary replied.

"Alright, alright! I'm going," Estelle said, getting out of her chair. She smoothed her skirts. "How do I look?"

"Like a vision. Now, go sweep him off his feet," Mary teased.

Estelle made her way to the study, finding Christian browsing the titles on the shelves. He narrowed in on one title, looking closer at it.

"Find something you like, Mr. Thompson?" Estelle asked in amusement as she entered the room.

He jumped a bit and straightened out. "You startled me, Darling. I was just admiring your Shakespeare collection."

"Mr. Thompson, may I ask why you are here?" she asked with a raised brow.

"I did say I would call on you last night," he smiled.

"I didn't think you meant first thing the next morning," she laughed.

"If it's a bad time, I can come back," he told her.

"Nonsense. It's a surprise, but a good one. What were you hoping to do?"

"Well, it's a beautiful day. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me for a walk."

"A walk would be lovely. Let me retrieve my parasol and my hat and I will be ready to go," she smiled before leaving to fetch her things.

Mary winked at her as she passed on the stairs to return to him. "Do enjoy yourself."

Estelle shook her head at her sister and made her way back to Christian. As they left, he offered her his arm. She opened her parasol, holding it with one hand as she slipped her other arm into his.

"Where to, my dear?" he asked.

"Wherever you go, I will follow," she replied, smiling at him.

"To the stars, then?"

"To the stars," she replied as he began to lead her away.

They walked in silence for a stretch, stealing glances at each other here and there before Estelle finally spoke.

"You keep stealing little peaks at me, Mr. Thompson," she teased, "Is there a reason for it?"

Christian blushed a bit from her noticing. "I haven't seen you in so long, and then you appeared last night as if you were a dream made true. I'm afraid that if I take my eyes off of you, you may vanish."

"I can assure you that I have no intention of disappearing," she smiled. "Besides, don't you remember what my name means?"

"Of course. How could I forget that conversation we had back at the the lake," he smiled. "What's your point, Ms. Devereux?"

"Just because you may not see the stars for some time, doesn't mean they are gone. Other things affect your view of them, but they are still there," she murmured.

"Ellie, I..." he trailed off. "You always were a little star."

She blushed, remember the last time he had called her that. It had been the summer of 1893, the last summer they'd spent at the manor before they had sold it. She had been 12 at the time, on the cusp of becoming an unruly teenager, and Christian was 15 and kind enough to let her tag along.

_"Estelle, where are you?" Christian laughed, looking for her around the lake. "Did you go swimming without me?"_

_"Christian, I told you not to call me that," Estelle huffed, hanging upside down from a tree._

_"How did you even get up there?" he asked in amusement._

_"Oh, you know, a foot here, a hand there. However, I have found myself in quite a bit of a predicament," she replied._

_"And what, pray tell, Estelle, is that?" he smirked._

_"I can't get down," she said with an awkward smile. "The hem of my dress is stuck and I'm afraid to rip it. Mother will be so cross if I do."_

_"I'll help you," he replied before climbing up into the tree. Deftly, he worked it free of the branch and moved to climb back down. Slowly, but surely, she moved to follow once he was back on the ground. On her way down, her foot slipped and she fell into his arms. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him. She'd never felt like this around him before. It was new and exciting._

_"Careful," he murmured, looking down at her in concern. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt, now would we?"_

_She shook her head and swallowed as he gently placed her back on the ground._

_"Thank you for your help," she murmured._

_"Any time, Estelle," he smiled._

_"Christian, please don't call me that."_

_"Why not? It's your name," he said in confusion._

_"Yes, but I hate it. It sounds like it belongs to an old lady, or an opera singer. I am neither of those things. It's a silly name and I don't know if it suits me," she sighed._

_"Do you know what it means?" Christian asked in amusement._

_"Well,_ no _, but that isn't going to make me like it," she replied._

_"It comes from Latin. It means 'star,'" he explained, walking with her down to the water's edge. They kicked off their shoes and ran their feet through the cold water._

_"I think the meaning suits you just fine," he said honestly._

_She tilted her head to look at him. "How do you figure?"_

_"Well, you're always orbiting me like a little star," he smirked, shooting her a wink. She looked away to cover up the blush on her cheeks._

_"I suppose I do," she sighed._

_"But, if you dislike your name that much, then I guess I'll just have to come up with a new name for you," he said thoughtfully._

_"Everyone else has taken to calling me 'Elle'," she informed him._

_"Yes, but I'm not everyone else. I'm your Christian. And you're my...," his eyes lit up as he settled on a name, "Ellie."_

_"Ellie?" She asked in amusement, trying the name out on her tongue. "I like it."_

_"Good. It's a smaller version of Estelle, like a little star," he smiled._

"Ellie, are you alright?" Christian asked, shaking her from her reverie.

"Yes, of course," she blushed, "I was just... reminiscing."

She looked around her surroundings, not having realized that they had ended up in the Italian Gardens in Hyde Park. The water from the fountains created a lovely ambient noise, and the architecture was enough that she felt as though she actually were in Italy.

"Could you imagine being loved so much that someone set out to create something this spectacular for you?" she asked dreamily as they passed a fountain.

"That's true love, isn't it?" Christian smiled wistfully, "Creating something beautiful for the enjoyment of the person you care about most."

Estelle bit her lip in thought as she walked over to the ledge that overlooked the water. She gently leaned against it and looked out. "If you could be whatever you wished, what would it be?"

"For my own happiness?" he asked, coming to admire the view with her.

She nodded.

"Well, I suppose I'd like to be a writer," he blushed. "There's something that I've always admired about the way they can move others through words. To say something and to be heard... Isn't that the dream?"

With a tilt of her head, she pressed further. "What would you say?"

"Hopefully many things," he smirked.

"Of course," she laughed turning to look at him, "But, if you could have only one work published, what would you want it to say? Last night you were speaking of freedom, beauty, truth, and love. If you could only focus on one, what would it be? What would you say?"

"I believe that all of those ideals are important, but the most important one would have to be love," he replied.

"And why is that?"

"Well, you simply can't have any of the others without it," he explained. "For instance, take beauty. Is beauty not admiration? Admiration is something we give to something we love. We recreate beauty so that the world could see it and love it as much as we do. When there's natural beauty, we appreciate it all the more. If you love someone enough, you're honest with them, therefore you cannot have truth without love. If you love mankind enough, then you will point out the truths of it. As for freedom... if you love something, you set it free."

Estelle's breath caught in her throat as she watched him speak, taking in his profile as he discussed his views. There was a passion in his eyes that she hadn't seen from anyone else in a while. It was as if the sun shone through a clear blue sky. Deep down, she wondered what if would be like to be on the receiving end of that passion, but she quickly banished the thought. It was not the time, nor the place for such things. He turned to regard her, and found her staring as if she were puzzling him.

"Ms. Devereux?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Could you not have those ideals without love? Honesty can be brutal and cruel. Beauty can be natural or it can be false. You may admire another person for how they look, but still despise them, and freedom can be given out of moral obligation," she countered.

His smile faltered a bit. "You're speaking like everyone else."

Hesitantly, because they were in public, she placed her hand on top of his on the rail. "It's hard to think differently from what you've been told, but I'm open to change."

"To answer you, the truth may hurt, but so can love. Beauty is more than skin deep. To call a person beautiful, is to see their soul, not their skin. Duty can be love," he murmured. "Do we not all dance through this society as our duty to our parents because we love them?"

She smiled softly at him. "What would you say about love?"

His smile returned to his face as they looked into each other's eyes, "That the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

"Mr. Thompson, never change," she murmured as she squeezed his hand. They sat there for a few moments more, simply enjoying each other's company, lost in their own thoughts. Estelle turned over what Christian had said in her mind. Eventually, she had to ask, because curiosity got the better of her.

"Why is it not just to love?" she asked quietly.

"Because you may love another, but not allow them to love you. To which you must ask yourself, what's the point? Not to mention, we all deserve to be loved, but are afraid to put ourselves out there," he replied.

"We might get hurt. Or we might fall in love with the wrong person," she commented.

"If both people truly love each other in a way that is selfless and respectful, then are they the wrong person?" he asked. "Or are they just 'wrong' because society's rules say they are? Ms. Devereux, I'd rather have true love and know that I can be happy with that person, than marry someone society deems acceptable and be miserable. Wouldn't you?"

Estelle sighed. "Christian, it's more complicated than that."

"Is it? Or is it just that society has made it so?" he pressed.

She smiled sadly at the water. "May I confess something?"

"Of course, Darling."

"I do want love, but my marriage isn't just about me. It's for my family. In a way, my happiness is negligible in this as long as it serves the greater good," she said.

Christian reached out and tipped her chin towards him. His eyes bore into hers intensely. "You can't live your life for other people, Ellie. You are a kind, brilliant, and beautiful woman. Value yourself enough to want more for yourself than just what your family needs. You deserve to be cherished and adored. Don't ever throw that hope away for the sake of others."

Her eyes widened at his words. They were bold, but he was so adamant that she knew he truly meant them. Her heart was thudding in her chest as she felt herself drowning in his gaze. "Christian, I... I don't know what to say."

"Promise me, that you won't give up on love," he told her.

She didn't care if people saw. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. "I promise."

He hugged her back just as tightly before letting go. "I am glad you're back in my life."

She smiled at him, "I thought you said I never left."

He blushed, recalling their conversation from the night before. "Yes, well, I refuse to ever let you go again."

She blushed in response. "And if some dashingly handsome man sweeps me off my feet this social season?"

"Have you met someone, darling?" he asked with a smirk and a raised brow.

"Perhaps," she replied coyly.

"Do I know him?"

"Better than most," she replied with a grin.

His eyes softened as he looked at her. "I must confess, I think this may be my last season as a bachelor in London."

She reached down and took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. "They do say that the third time's the charm."

"So it seems."

In the distance, Big Ben chimed the hour, letting them know how late it had gotten.

"I should escort you back," Christian murmured after the twelfth chime had ended. "I'm sure you have other plans for the day."

Estelle nodded as they started to make their way back to her home. "I'm having afternoon tea with Ms. Renton at her house. Then, there's a dinner party later this evening."

"The one hosted by the Harpers?" he asked.

"The very same."

"I was also invited. It will be nice to have at least one friendly face there," he smiled.

"Are you not a friend of theirs?" she asked with an amused smile. "You did receive an invitation. From what I've heard, it's a small gathering. Very selective."

"My father is friends with the Harpers. I'm fairly certain that they invite me out of obligation. Or because of my singing voice. I somehow always get asked to sing when everyone settles in the parlor after dinner," he chuckled.

"I look forward to hearing you," she smiled as they turned onto her street.

They paused at her door, neither quite ready to say good bye yet.

"Well, Ms. Devereux, it's always a pleasure," he told her before taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.

"Until tonight, Mr. Thompson," she smiled as he straightened.

She turned and entered her house, depositing her parasol by the door for later use. Footsteps came running down the stairs.

"Tell me everything," her sister exclaimed as she skidded to a stop in front of her.

Estelle chuckled and went into the parlor and told her all about it as they worked on an embroidery they had started together. The time ticked on as the two of them discussed the Bohemian ideals, with Estelle finding that Mary agreed with most of the things Christian had said, even if she didn't quite understand it all.

Eventually, the carriage was sent to take her to Annalise's house for their afternoon tea.

"You look happy," Annalise noted as Estelle entered the room.

"I've had a lovely morning," she smiled.

"Do tell," Annalise replied, eyes alight with curiosity.

Estelle settled onto the settee across from her, picking up her cup and saucer. "I was called on this morning."

"Was it Mr. Thompson?" Annalise asked excitedly.

"It was. We went for a stroll through Hyde Park," she smiled.

"In the Italian Gardens? I always found those to be _so_ romantic," Annalise sighed wistfully. "What did you discuss?"

"Bohemian ideals, mostly," Estelle said honestly. "Christian is a dreamer, but that's one of the things that I enjoy most about him. There's this pull. He speaks about things that should scare me, because they're not..." she tried to find the right word, " _concrete_. The things he wants from life aren't material. He's striving for happiness, and most would say that's foolhardy."

"Would you say that?" Annalise asked before taking a sip of tea.

"No. I think he's brave. He's willing to do what makes him happy with no regard for societal repercussions," she replied, taking a small sandwich off a tray.

"Some might call that selfish," Annalise stated.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, "but, I still admire him for it. He makes me have hopes and dreams. When I'm with him, I almost forget about the demands of my father and I have no desire to settle."

"Why is that?"

"I'm not sure. He values me. I'm not just a commodity or a means to an end. Christian sees me for more than what I'm worth," she murmured, looking down at her reflection in her tea. "He sees me for me, not for what benefits I might offer him."

"You're an equal," Annalise commented.

"Exactly!" Estelle exclaimed.

"And how do _you_ see him?" her friend asked curiously.

Estelle considered her friend's question as she looked over the spread in front of them. Finger sandwiches and sweets on tiered trays, the aroma of spiced tea wafting from the teapot in the center.

"I think he's everything I could have hoped for," she replied honestly.

"Do you love him?"

"A part of me always has," she said with a shake of her head. "I just never thought the stars would align in such a way that would make it possible."

Estelle looked up at her friend and smiled. "I must sound silly."

"No," Annalise said honestly. "You sound like you're a happy woman who found the love of her life. People dream of that. Don't let it go. If not for your sake, then for the rest of us sorry saps who may not be as lucky and have to settle for living vicariously through their lucky friends."

Estelle chuckled. "You'll find your prince, Anna. Someone like you is sure to be the talk of the society pages for being so popular."

"You think so?" she asked with a grin.

"Oh, I _know_ so."

They shared a laugh and turned to lighter topics as they finished their tea together. They gossiped about their younger siblings, the latest fashion trends, and about what might happen at the Harpers' dinner party later that night. By the time Estelle left to return home and relax before the dinner party, she was feeling more sure of what she felt for Christian. However, she decided to play along for her father's sake and entertain whoever else might fancy her this season so he could never say that she hadn't made an effort. Yet, she knew who her heart belonged to and that would never change. As she settled into a chair in the study to read, she thought back on what Christian had said about love. She looked down at the collection of Shakespeare's sonnets in her hand and considered how most of them were about love. Perhaps he was right. Shakespeare had seen beauty and articulated that for the world to see because he had loved the subject of his sonnets. She bit her lip as she wondered if Christian might ever write something about _her_ if he had the chance. She hoped he would.


	3. Mes Rêves Épanouis

After spending some time reading, Estelle managed to pull herself away from her book and make it upstairs to prepare for the Harper's dinner party. Her younger sister, always fascinated by watching her get ready for such events, followed behind her like an eager puppy.

"I've always found dinner parties to be stuffy and boring," her sister whined.

"That's because they're hosted by father," Estelle smirked. "The Harpers are known for their dinner parties. They always have a theme, and they are _very_ exclusive."

"How did you warrant an invitation, then?" her sister teased.

"You are terrible, little sister!" Estelle admonished. "Father made a business deal with Mr. Harper that was particularly lacking on rewards for father. This was Mr. Harper's way of softening the blow."

"What _is_ the theme?" Mary asked, hanging upside-down off the back of Estelle's bed.

"Paris," she replied. "You shouldn't sit like that. All the blood will flow to your head."

With a huff, Mary righted herself and laid on her stomach, feet swinging in the air as she watched her sister open her wardrobe. "Will anyone we know be there?"

"Ms. Renton will be there, as well as Mr. Thompson," Estelle blushed as she pulled out a pink dress.

"If Christian is going to be there, then you need to do better than that," Mary replied, getting off the bed and going to rummage in the wardrobe. "Here. This is French silk, it's midnight blue, and it will accentuate your figure."

Estelle looked at the blue dress that her sister had pulled out from the closet. "Are you sure the sleeves aren't a bit... too much?"

"Nonsense. Have you seen French style? It _is_ the fashion capital. You'll turn heads in this, sister."

"Very well," she gave in. She tugged on the dark blue dress, admiring the golden fabric that went down the middle, almost in a stripe. Then, she pulled on the jacket that went over it, allowing her sister to fluff out the puffy shoulders.

"Beautiful," her sister murmured. "Now, your hair, what are you going to do with it?"

"I was hoping you might have some ideas," Estelle smiled.

Mary pushed her into the chair in front of her vanity and got to work pinning her curls into a different formation, leaving it so that a little bit spilled out and flowed around the back of her neck. To further accent the gold in the dress, Mary placed stars in her hair. When she was done, she took a step back to admire her work.

"You've outdone yourself," Estelle grinned as she met her sister's eyes in the mirror.

Mary shrugged. "I like to practice on my friends and my dolls. Now, it's getting late. You should be on your way."

Estelle stood and slipped her feet into the heeled evening shoes she had placed on the ground. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

"I'll hold you to that," her sister grinned as she watched her leave.

Estelle made it down the stairs, noting that her father still had not returned home from work. She stepped outside and waited on their steps for her carriage to be brought around. She hadn't been to a dinner party hosted by anyone else but the Rentons by herself before, and was feeling especially nervous. As she got into the carriage, she realized that you wouldn't be alone, though. Anna would be there, and so would Christian. She'd be just fine.

The carriage stopped outside of a respectable home in London. She took a deep breath and exited, walking up to the door. On her way there, she heard footsteps approaching as someone got out of a carriage that had pulled up after hers.

"Well, hello, darling, fancy meeting you here," the man teased.

"Mr. Thompson, prompt as always," she smiled, turning towards him.

"May I escort you in?" he raised a brow at her as he offered his arm.

"You may," she replied with a small nod before slipping her arm into his.

Together, they entered the home of the Harpers. It was a stylish home. The walls were covered in floral wall paper, and the hardwood floors shone under the light from the wall sconces. They were greeted by the host and hostess, Benjamin and Elizabeth Harper, before being shown to the drawing room while waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive. Estelle studied the Harpers while Christian went to chat with some of the other men.

Benjamin and Elizabeth Harper were a well-matched pair. They had met in their first social season together and decided that they were like-minded enough that they should marry. They hadn't been in love when they were wed, but anyone could see that there was a fondness there. It was apparent in the way that he looked at her when she entered the room, like it had been dim until she came in and brought the light with her. Still, Estelle didn't know if that fondness could be classified as love. They had been together for years, raising a family and creating an honorable estate, but that fondness didn't seem as if it were anything more than companionship. It just didn't feel as intimate. If she were to compare it to a fire, it would be a warm hearth in a kitchen on a cold winter's day; enough to get the job done and keep you warm, but it would take forever if you were to cook anything on it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Christian staring at her. Her heart leapt. Now _this_... this was a spark. If they were a fire, well, Estelle was sure that they would be a roaring flame, enough to keep you warm and enough to build upon. She looked back at the Harpers and wondered if she would be content with a love like theirs after feeling a love like this.

"You're thinking again," Annalise murmured next to her.

She turned to her with a slight upturned lip. "Anna, are we not always thinking? If we were to stop, we would cease to exist. 'I think, therefore I am.'"

"Please, do not quote philosophy to me. I get it enough at home from my brother," she teased.

Estelle shook her head. "Who is escorting you to dinner?"

"Mr. Parker," Annalise told her. "I heard Mrs. Harper say that you were to be escorted by Mr. Phillips, but then she saw you arrive with Mr. Thompson and made a quick swap. Very irregular at one of these small affairs. You should consider yourself lucky."

Estelle looked over and caught Christian's eye. They shared a smile with each other while he had a laugh with Mr. Hughes about some sort or another. "I do. Oh, trust me, Anna, I do."

"Well, gentlemen, if you would escort your ladies into the dining room, dinner will be served momentarily," Mrs. Harper announced.

Estelle watched as the men and women were paired off. There weren't many, with only 12 people in attendance, as is standard for most dinner parties. She watched as Christian came over for her. They made their way into the dining room where he pulled out her chair before gently pushing her towards the table. Being seated across from each other would be interesting. She wasn't quite sure how she would make it through the evening with him staring at her every so often.

"As you all know," Mr. Harper said once everyone was seated, "tonight's dinner has a French theme. My lovely wife has done the honor of picking some light topics about France, but we do ask that you save any deeper discussions for the drawing room after dinner, as is proper."

Mrs. Harper smiled warmly at her husband from her place at the head of the table. "Our first topic would be about Parisian cuisine."

Estelle listened intently as everyone discussed the topic at hand. She had never been to France, although her mother had taught her a bit of the language when she was a girl. She found the opinions of her peers interesting, especially when the conversation flowed on to the current fashions in Paris.

"You know, those Bohemians may very well take over Paris at this rate," Mr. Phillips smirked. "Those absinthe-drinking liberals may ruin the town."

"I think that expression of ideas is at the heart of what makes Paris what it is," Christian replied.

"Do go on, Mr. Thompson," Mrs. Harper remarked.

"Well, Paris has always been home to forward-thinkers. They've had a host of revolutions over the years due to wanting freedom. I believe that is fairly on par with what Bohemians stand for. In a way, I don't think there's a better place for a Bohemian to end up than in Paris," Christian mused.

"You speak as if you were one of them," Mr. Phillips grumbled.

"I believe Mr. Thompson may be right," Estelle added, "The French have always been interested in love and romance. Those are also Bohemian ideals. Not to mention, fashion itself is a way of expression. Do our clothes not express things about ourselves that we wish to not verbalize for fear of sounding like a braggart? Your clothes indicate your station as well as your proclivities and tastes. As France is home to a majority of innovations in fashion, and therefore expression, does it not make sense for those who wish to express themselves and their thoughts on the world around them to end up there? It seems as if it would be the perfect place for one to go should one wish to create a work that outlasts them and is relevant to society."

She took a sip of her wine, meeting Christian's eyes above the rim of the glass. He was grinning at her. She tried to place the glass back down on the table as steadily as she could, but she was shaking. She rarely was so outspoken in crowds on what could have been considered a controversial topic. Mrs. Harper was keen to steer the conversation back to more shallow waters after her input, but she could feel the gaze of the men at the table, judging her. The rest of the dinner was spent on lighter notes, where Estelle gave only trivial contributions. It was the longest two hours of Estelle's life, and she was more than thrilled when it was over and they retired to the drawing room.

"Now, before the men slip off for their chats in the parlor, I was hoping that Mr. Thompson would do us the honor of gracing us with a song," Mrs. Harper said with a hopefully look in her eyes and a gesture to the piano.

"How can I turn down the hostess?" Christian said with a bashful smile. He settled into the piano bench and stretched his fingers before beginning to play a warm up. "Now, this may be a bit familiar for you all, after all it is a very well known poem."

Estelle settled on the edge of her seat as Christian started to play properly.

" _Oh my love is like a red, red rose that's newly sprung in June_ ," he sang, _"My love is like a melody that's sweetly played in tune."_

Estelle's eyes widened a bit as his gaze settled on her. Did anyone else realize he was singing to her? _Was_ he singing to her, or was this just wishful thinking? His voice gave her goosebumps and brought a smile on her face as he continued. A quick glance around the room had her noticing how all the ladies looked ready to swoon off the couches. Didn't they know he was hers? Didn't they see him singing to her? They had their chances, three seasons of them to be exact. Estelle turned her attention back to Christian as he finished the last few notes of the song.

The room broke out in a polite applause, prompting him to stand up and give a small bow.

"Now, gentlemen, you may retire to the parlor for the evening," Mrs. Harper said, shooing the men out of the room. Christian hesitantly glanced back before filing out with the other gentlemen. When they were gone, Mrs. Harper turned to the ladies.

"Ms. Devereux, were you aware of the way he was serenading you? We all may have been here to witness him sing, but the only audience he seemed to care about was yours," Annalise teased.

Estelle blushed, "Anna, don't be silly."

"Nonsense, Ms. Devereux. I do believe that Ms. Renton is correct in her assumptions. We may have had the privilege of being in the room, but he was certainly singing to you," Mrs. Harper grinned. "Are you two courting?"

"Not exactly," Estelle replied.

"Do you want to?" Mrs. Harper pressed. "He has quite the reputation amongst society's finest as being a bit of a dreamer."

"A beautiful dreamer," Estelle corrected politely, "I think we all could use a bit more dreaming in our lives, don't you?"

"My dear, living life from dream to dream is hardly a secure life at all," Mrs. Harper told her.

"There's something freeing about being able to dream, Mrs. Harper. I don't think it's entirely a bad thing," she replied.

"Many a fortune has been lost due to misplaced dreams," Ms. Collins commented.

"Good things can come from dreaming. Think of all of the places we've explored that we can now trade with. Those would never have been found had someone not dreamed of something more than this isle," Estelle said adamantly.

"Perhaps he needs someone like you to keep his feet on the ground," Mrs. Harper remarked.

"Never. I could never be someone's anchor if they were capable of soaring," Estelle murmured. "To stifle someone's dreams... to snuff that candle out... there truly is no greater crime."

Annalise placed a hand on Estelle's arm in comfort. "I wish someone would serenade me like that," Annalise commented, trying to steer the conversation back into more lighter territory, "I can hardly believe how nice of a voice that man has. Although, I've heard that Mr. Phillips is quite the virtuoso with the violin."

The conversation shifted topics, but Estelle kept thinking about the words Mrs. Harper said. Would she ground Christian? Would society here cause her to become a weight to him? The proverbial ball-and-chain as it were. She started to fret as she realized that although Christian made her incredibly happy, she may not be able to do the same for him.

Slowly, the hours ticked by and guests started to leave. Estelle said goodbye to her hosts, thanking them for a lovely evening before going out to wait for her carriage.

"Ms. Devereux," Christian called out as he came hopping down the steps to her.

"Mr. Thompson," she smiled, but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her. "Love, is something wrong?"

"It's just been a long evening," she murmured graciously.

Christian's carriage pulled up and he reached down to take her hand in his. He brought it up to his lips to kiss, but she felt something placed against her palm. "Until we meet again."

Estelle tilted her head in confusion as he released her hand and left. She waited until she was safely in her own carriage to see what he had left in her hand. It was a note, telling her that if she wanted to go on an adventure, he'd pick her up in an hour from her house. She shook her head and put the note up her sleeve. When she got home, she changed out of her outfit and into a dark black dress. If she were to sneak out with him, she'd have to have an air of stealth and mystery around her. She settled on her bed and waited, listening to the sounds of the household as everyone else slowly settled in to sleep for the night. After the hour had passed, she began to worry that he had forgotten. Then, she heard it. The small sound of a pebble hitting her window. A smile crossed her face as she remembered all the times he had done this at the country estate when they were children. She rushed over to the window and opened the french doors to peer out at the garden below.

"Hello, darling."


	4. Children of the Revolution

Estelle stifled a chuckle as he grinned up at her from below.

"I'll be down in a moment!" she softly called down.

"I'll be waiting, darling," he winked.

She shook her head as she blushed. She gently picked up her shoes from next to her door and crept out into the hall. Carefully, she peered around to make sure the rest of the lights were off in the house. Her foot stopped at the top of the stairs. They would creak. They _always_ creaked. It would give her away in a heartbeat. Estelle let a soft sigh pass through her mouth before letting her gaze fall on the railing. It wasn't proper by any means. She hadn't done it in years. But, desperate times called for desperate measures. Estelle bunched up her skirts in her hand before swinging her leg over the side of the railing. Then, she tucked her shoes under her arms and let go, sliding down the railing until her back gently hit the newel post at the end. A childish smile formed on her face at the sheer rush she felt from doing such a silly and small action. She'd been prim and proper for so long that she had almost forgotten what it was like to have fun. Christian truly did bring color back into her life after having seen the world in black and white for so long. She'd forgotten what it was like to dream. Estelle leaned her weight to the side that was on the outside of the railing before swinging her other leg over and landing soundlessly on the floor. She smoothed her skirts out before moving on towards the front door. Slipping on her shoes, she snuck out the door and ran around the corner into Christian's waiting arms.

Despite the fact that he had just seen her a few hours earlier, he hugged her close and spun her around. In the dark of the night, they could just be themselves. Hidden in the shadows, they could leave society behind.

"What did you want to show me that I couldn't see in the daylight?" Estelle asked curiously, resting her hands on his arms as he held her.

"Well, I wanted to show you some like minded people," Christian replied with a blush.

"Then lead the way," she smiled.

Reluctantly, he let go over her waist, offering her his arm instead to escort her through the streets. They walked in a calm silence until they were a few streets away.

"Earlier... after the dinner. You seemed upset," he ventured. "Did something happen?"

"Oh, not exactly," she murmured. "I suppose it was something the ladies said after you all left. We were discussing your song and questions turned to our relationship and something that they said sent me into a world of my own devising."

"They say that thinking is a dangerous pass time," he teased.

"They may be right," she chuckled.

"What did they say?"

"They seem to think I could anchor you," she replied. "But, I think they're wrong."

"How do you figure?"

"I would never anchor you. Not when you've taught me how to fly," she smiled. "I'd sooner fly with you than ask you to be anything you were not."

A funny smile came over his face as he looked down at her. "You are everything one could ever want."

"About that song earlier," Estelle started.

"What about it?"

"Did you pick it for a reason?" she asked, blushing furiously.

"Of course, darling."

"Which was?" she asked turning to face him.

"Sometimes when you feel a certain way, you can't bottle it inside," he murmured, reaching out to cup her cheek.

She leaned into his touch as his thumb rubbed along her bottom lip.

"You are _so_ beautiful," he replied, skimming his eyes down her face.

"Would a Bohemian ever write about me?" she teased.

"Volumes," he replied earnestly.

She shook her head at him slightly and they started walking again.

"Where are we going, Christian?" she asked when they didn't seem to be stopping.

"Right... _here_ ," he said as they stopped in front of a building. "Darling, welcome to Grub Street, home to London's Bohemian scene."

Estelle looked around the street. It was lined with shabby looking buildings. Across the way was a coffeehouse, and next to it was a brothel. _Well, at least a man didn't have to go far to satisfy all his basic needs_ , she thought with a smirk.

Christian made his way across the street to the coffeehouse. Estelle followed him, curious. She had never been to a coffeehouse before. She wasn't quite sure what to expect. However, she didn't get to see much since she was stopped at the door.

"No women allowed," a man gruffed as she entered.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I said what I said, lass," came the man's reply as he scratched his head. "This isn't the place for a lady. Run along now and get back to your sewing circles."

Estelle bristled at this comments. "Are you insinuating that I'm not cultured enough to keep up with the men in here?"

The man stood and towered over her. "I'm saying that you aren't welcome. Now get the hint and bugger off!"

She turned to Christian and he looked at her. "I just need to see if a friend is here, and then I'll be out."

Her face was hot with rage as she turned to wait outside for Christian.

"They kicked you out, Miss?" a woman leaning against the building next door asked.

"They said I wasn't welcome," she huffed.

The woman spat on the ground. "Lousy blowhards, that's what they are."

Estelle cracked a smile and went towards her. "You could say that again."

"The man with you ditched you to wait out here?" the woman asked.

"He's just looking for his friend and then he'll be out," Estelle murmured.

"If you don't mind me saying so, you seem to be in the wrong neck of the woods, Miss," the woman smiled.

"Estelle Devereux," she corrected. "And... perhaps? But, if we all belong to the Earth, then I don't think there could be a wrong place to end up."

"Spoken like one of the Bohemians in there," the woman chuckled. "Shame they didn't let you in. You could've taught them a thing or two."

"What's your name?" Estelle asked.

"Poppy," she replied.

"No last name?"

"Ms. Devereux, when you're a whore, no one cares for your last name. It's too much for them to scream when they're having a good time," she teased.

Estelle blushed. "I suppose so, Poppy."

Poppy gave her an appraising glance. "Someone like you could make a lot of money doing the work of someone like me."

"Y-yes, well, I..."

"You wouldn't have the first clue as to where to start," Poppy smirked.

Estelle cleared her throat. "I've never... I've never even kissed a man."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, sweetheart. I'm just teasing you," she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Although, if you ever wanted to learn things... I wouldn't mind talking to you about it."

Estelle blushed even harder. "I... appreciate your kind offer."

Christian came out of the coffeehouse and called out to her.

"Well, some other time, then," Poppy grinned graciously before returning to her own building.

Estelle walked over. "That man was the rudest man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. How dare he think I couldn't keep up with them?"

Christian let out a sigh. "I should have realized that. The only ladies in this area are the women who work next door, and they have a tendency to steer clear of the coffeehouse."

"Now what?" she asked.

"Well, my friend wasn't in there, so he must be home. We'll just have to go call on him."

"Christian, isn't it too late to call on someone?" she asked as they started to walk again.

"Nonsense. William is always awake. In fact, he's probably hosting people tonight since it is a weekend," he grinned. "Come on, darling. This will be fun."

Estelle shook her head as he led her away and further down the road. The house was dilapidated, but the light was on in the upstairs windows. Without any pause, Christian entered the boarding house and up the stairs to his friend's home.

He knocked on the door and a gruff, "I don't want any tonight, Delilah!" came back.

"Well, I'm not Delilah," Christian called back.

The door swung open and an older, rakish gentleman came out. Estelle figured he had to be in his 30s. His shirt was half open and his waist coat hung open off his chest, suspenders hanging off his pants. His hair was a mop of sandy brown on his head, but his beard was well groomed.

"Christian, my boy! It's been a bit," William grinned. His eyes then fell to Estelle, sizing her up. "Who's your friend?"

"William, this is Ms. Estelle Devereux," Christian said before turning to Estelle. "Ellie, this is William Cavanaugh."

William nudged Christian out of the way to take Estelle's hand and kiss her knuckles. "So this is the little star you used to go on about back in school. I can see why."

Estelle raised a brow at Christian who was blushing.

"Please, come inside," William grinned, "my house isn't much, but the company isn't half bad."

"The gang is all here?" Christian asked.

"More or less," William shrugged.

Estelle and Christian followed William back into his smoky parlor. A small crowd was seated around the room. William pointed around the room to introduce them.

"The Abraham Lincoln imitation in the corner is James, the blonde woman in his lap is Luise, the man on the piano bench is John, and the woman next to him is his mistress, Jennifer. Everyone, you all remember Christian. This is his friend, Ms. Devereux."

James cackled, causing smoke from his cigar to puff out of his mouth. "Ms. Devereux, your reputation proceeds you."

"So I've gathered," Estelle smiled as she settled on a chair.

"What's the topic tonight?" Christian asked as he sat next to her.

"We haven't chosen one yet. Do you have one in mind?" John asked, leaning forward on his knees.

"Well, our dinner party had some thoughts on Paris," Christian said with an amused smile.

"All of them wrong, probably," Luise snorted.

"More or less," Estelle grinned.

William settled into his tall-backed arm chair. "Alright, my lovely ones and unfortunate bastards, the topic on the table is Paris. Unleash your floodgates."

Estelle did her best to keep up with the conversation as it bounced around the room. Everyone had thoughts, and they weren't the simple, polite thoughts that she had encountered at the Harper's. No, these were rich with ideas and dense with knowledge. While the dinner conversation would have been splashing around in the shallows, this was diving into the deep. Things were muddled until you could work through them and see the bottom. Nothing was off limits. However, she noticed the men were still dominating the conversation mostly. Whenever she contributed, they would look a bit startled, except for Christian, before taking her thoughts and running with it, expanding and building. Nothing was tangible. Disagreements were commonplace, but never heated. She had never felt more alive, yet, as they left, it was almost like coming up for air.

"Hold tight to that one, Thompson," William smirked as they were going out the door.

Christian looked over at Estelle, a smile on his face. "She is quite special."

Estelle blushed softly as they walked off into the night.

"Well, how did I do?" Estelle asked when they had left Grub Street.

"Splendid, darling. You kept up a lot better than I did my first time there."

Silence settled for a moment before Estelle bit her lip and formulated her question.

"Christian, do you talk to them about me often?"

"W-well... when it was relevant to the conversation," Christian murmured.

"What did you say?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing terrible, I promise," he grinned.

"Alright," Estelle blushed. "Keep your secrets."

"I'll tell you someday," he replied, nudging her shoulder with his.

"Write it in a book," she teased.

"Perhaps I will!" he laughed.

"So when do we go back?" she asked.

"Perhaps next weekend?" he suggested as they came to a stop in front of the servant entrance to her house.

"I'll be looking forward to it," Estelle smiled.

She heard the clock in the distance chime two in the morning.

"I should get going," she murmured, losing herself in his eyes.

A gravitational pull formed between them as they drew closer. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his breath against her face. His hand came up to cup her cheek. His lips were warm against hers. She wanted to melt into him, and that's nearly what she did, slipping her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. His arm wrapped around her waist in response, pulling her flush against him. She'd never been kissed before, but she hadn't pictured the first one to be like this. She always thought it would be awkward, or that they would bump noses, but this was nothing like that. This was perfect. This was right. Her lips voiced thoughts that she wasn't ready to express with words, and with the way he was kissing back, she hoped that it meant that he reciprocated them. If they were in public, and not in front of the servant entrance by the garden, one might have considered it indecent. Her heart was hammering as she pulled away ever so slightly. He ran his thumb gently along her cheek as he smiled down at her.

"I would write volumes for you."

"And I would hang onto every word," she smiled.

"Good night, Ellie."

"Good night, Christian," she whispered.

Slowly, they entangled themselves from each other, distancing themselves into what was proper.

"Until next time," he smiled.

She nodded slightly and went in through the back door. Carefully, she took her shoes off and then snuck through her home and back to her room. Swiftly, she got ready for bed and settled in to sleep, but she couldn't stop replaying their kiss in her mind.


	5. Here We Are Now

A week had passed since they had been reunited. Estelle had spent the week dodging her father's questions about her potential suitors. Now, she was at Annalise's house to discuss their respective weeks.

"You snuck out of the house?" Annalise asked with a laugh. "Oh, Elle, that's rich!"

Estelle blushed slightly. "Well, I couldn't just leave him standing out there. That would be rude."

"Oh, of course. We wouldn't want to show poor manners to a man who shows up at your house well past the appropriate times to call on someone," Annalise smirked as she took a sip of tea. "Where did you go at that hour? I suppose all the respectable places would be closed by then."

"We went to Grub Street," Estelle murmured, pouring herself a cup of tea. The roses in Anna's garden were suddenly more interesting than the conversation at hand.

"Oh, Elle, you _didn't_!" Annalise gasped. "That's where all the people of ill renown and poor students live! That's hardly a place for you. How did Christian even know about it?"

"A friend from school lives there. You might actually like him," Estelle replied. "We actually had a lot of fun. I met some very intriguing people and we had deeper discussions than what normally is deemed appropriate in society."

"That actually does sound like a good time," Annalise smiled. "Perhaps the next time you sneak out, you'll have to stop by and fetch me... _On second thought,_ I prefer my beauty rest. However, if this man that you think I'd enjoy ever happens to be around, you'll have to introduce me."

Estelle smiled, "Alright, Anna. If we're ever in the same place as Mr. Cavanaugh, I'll make sure to introduce you."

"But, only if I look alluring. If I'm having a poor complexion or hair day, please save me from the embarrassment. I only wish to put my best foot forward," Annalise said pointedly.

Estelle shook her head. "Of course, Anna. Wouldn't want a man to possibly fall for you at your worst. Then we'd know he'd really like you at your best."

"You know that's not what I meant," Annalise admonished. "I just... would rather not look like a garden gnome if I'm to meet a man who might become special to me. First impressions are important."

Estelle had to laugh. "Are they?"

Annalise tilted her head. "You know, you've never told me how you and Christian met."

Estelle blushed. "There's not much to tell. We were neighbors."

"Yes, but I've been to the country estate when you owned it. I know how far it is to the next house," Annalise shot back. "You're blushing. There _is_ a story there, isn't there? Oh, Elle, don't leave your best friend in the dark! Come on, now, out with it."

Estelle sighed. "Anna, has anyone ever told you that you're a bit commandeering when it comes to conversations?"

"My mother always says that I'm a little too pushy for my own good, but I think that just makes me endearing," Annalise smirked.

Estelle rolled her eyes. "Well, since you asked. It's... an interesting story. Definitely not a great first impression..."

 _She was running. She hated her tutor, especially when they wanted to discuss philosophy when all she wanted to do was play. It was difficult to look out at the breeze blowing on the meadows and think that she'd have to spend her day stuck inside discussing men who have been dead for centuries when all she wanted was to smell the flowers and roll down hills until her dress was so soiled that her mother would yell. Estelle was only ten, and had an air of freedom and adventure about her that only young children had. That was why she'd snuck out. She'd asked to be excused to use the restroom and had climbed out the window, using the lattice on the side as a ladder to reach the ground. After peering around to make sure that no one would see her in order to tattle to her parents, she took off towards the far end of the estate. The grass was up to her chest as she walked through, and she could barely see her feet as she crested the hill. That was precisely how she had missed the fallen log in her path which sent her tripping end over head and rolling down the hill. She let out a cry of surprise as she spun down the grassy expanse until she saw a blur of color in her vision up ahead. What_ was _that?_

_"Hey! Stop!" a voice called out, but it was too late. She had barrel rolled into something hard and less forgiving than grass, knocking the wind out of her._

_"I-is the world done spinning?" she asked dizzily as she tried to straighten herself out. There was something squishy under her knee._

_"Don't you know better than to roll down hills?" a voice replied._

_Estelle peeked up at the owners... owner? It looked like there were two of them, but as her vision started to sort itself out, they morphed into one slightly annoyed boy's face._

_"I didn't roll down the hill," Estelle said adamantly._

_"No, I suppose you just happened to appear on top of me and my picnic then?" the voice shot back._

_"No, I mean... I didn't_ intend _to roll down the hill," Estelle corrected. "I tripped on a log."_

_"Oh," the boy replied. "Well, in that case I can't really blame you for smushing my sandwich."_

_"Sandwich?" she asked in confusion._

_"Under your knee," the boy stated, helping her up so that she wasn't laying against his chest and between his legs anymore. As she pulled back to kneel on her heels, she noticed the jam sandwich under her knee, staining her dress._

_"Oh, mother is going to kill me," she muttered as she lifted her knee to remove the squished sandwich._

_"It was an accident. Surely she'll take that into account," the boy replied, offering her a cloth to wipe off the extra bits of jam on her dress._

_"Well, she'll already be quite cross that I skipped my lessons. This will just be adding insult to injury," Estelle sighed._

_"You skipped your lessons?" the boy asked in awe. "It seems we have a delinquent on our hands."_

_"I am not a delinquent! I just... wanted to be outside. It's such a nice day out. I didn't want to spend it cooped up inside studying philosophy."_

_"That is understandable. Philosophy is so much nicer outside," he smiled._

_"What do you mean?" Estelle asked, tilting her head._

_"Well, you can see bits of philosophy more clearly in nature. In nature there's a certain truth to things. Or at least, that's what my tutor says. I mostly see beauty, but I suppose there's a truth in that as well," the man replied._

_"I think I'd prefer to take lessons with your tutor," Estelle grinned._

_"What's your name? Perhaps I can convince my father to send a letter to your parents so that you may use my tutor," the boy offered._

_"Estelle Devereux," she replied, holding her hand out to him._

_"I'm Christian Thompson," he said with a curt nod, taking her hand. Instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of her hand. She looked away with a blush. This boy certainly was silly._

_"Thompson," she murmured, "I think your father is a friend of mine. Your estate is Rouge Meadows, correct? I believe that we are neighbors."_

_"As close to neighbors as one can get in the country," Christian smiled. "It's nice to meet you. I've been wondering about the house that was built next door for a while now."_

_"I hope we can be more than just neighbors. With no one else around for miles, I hope we can become friends," Estelle smiled._

_"I'd like that," Christian beamed._

Annalise laughed as Estelle finished her story. "I can't believe you landed in his sandwich!"

Estelle blushed, "Gravity has no care for where you land. Besides, according to Sir Isaac Newton, if Christian hadn't been there, it could have been a lot longer before I stopped rolling. However, that's beside the point. Not every first impression has to be good in order for the relationship to be."

Annalise nodded, "I suppose you're right." She looked out over her garden and sighed. "I'm looking forward to seeing new plants and displays this week at the Great Spring Show. I feel as though it's about time to change things up around here."

Estelle brightened. "Oh, I love the Great Spring Show. I heard they have at least five marquees this year at the Temple Gardens. There's been a lot of talk of this one called 'The Lover's Arch.' I'm excited to see it. Since it's open to almost anyone, perhaps I can see if Christian will invite Mr. Cavanaugh so that you can meet."

"That would be lovely," Annalise smiled, "However, if he cannot attend, it isn't the end of the world. Mr. Phillips will be there, and my mother seems to think he could be a suitable match for me. I just wish the man weren't so boring. He came to call on me a few days ago and he wouldn't stop discussing the grandfather clock in our drawing room, and you know how it is when you discuss time. It always passes by more slowly the more you mention it. I swear, Elle, it was the longest hour of my life."

Estelle chuckled. "If I may borrow one of your servants, I'll send a note to Christian."

Annalise nodded, ringing the bell for a maid to come forward. "Elizabeth, if you could fetch a paper, pen, and an envelope for Ms. Devereux, I would truly appreciate it."

"Yes, Miss," Elizabeth replied before going to fetch those items. When she returned she placed them on the table for Estelle. Estelle quickly penned a note and sealed it up, handing it back to her.

"If you could make sure this reaches it's destination, Elizabeth, that would be lovely. Thank you," Estelle smiled.

"Of course, Miss," Elizabeth nodded in deference.

Estelle turned back to her friend, "Well, Anna. This has been lovely. I should probably get going, but I'll see you at the Great Spring Show tomorrow."

"I'm excited for the fireworks at the end of the event."

Estelle smiled as she stood and smoothed out her skirts. "They're said to be spectacular this year. "

"Have a safe trip home," Annalise smiled as Estelle made her way back through the garden gate to her waiting carriage.

Estelle made her way home and enjoyed a quiet evening at home for the first time in days. It was almost odd to not have spent some part of the day with Christian, but she had to get used to it. After all, even if they were to get married someday, there could be times when they didn't see each other. She would have to learn to make do. That didn't change the fact that she was so very bored as she worked on her sewing pattern.

"Sister, that's the fifth time you've sighed in the past ten minutes," Mary grumbled. "If you're going to be like this, then just go to bed. The sooner you sleep, the sooner tomorrow can come."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed. "Maybe I'll go up to my room to write a bit before going to bed."

"I don't care what you do as long as you stop sighing in my ear. It is loud, obnoxious, and annoying," Mary snapped.

Estelle chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'm leaving."

She put her sewing pattern down and went up to retire for the evening. After getting dressed for bed, she sat down at her desk to write. Originally, she had planned on writing in her journal, but instead she found herself writing poems. The words poured out from her soul, and she realized upon rereading them, that they all were about Christian.

"Oh, I truly have it bad," she sighed at herself. A part of her grimaced upon hearing her sigh. Mary was right. It was irksome. With a shake of her head, she gave up and went to bed. Falling asleep in eager anticipation for the next morning.

When she awoke the next morning, she breezed through the hours before Christian came to fetch her for the Great Spring Show. She was excited. The Great Spring Show had always been one of her mother's favorite events of the season due to the colorful flower displays. She practically ran out the door when he arrived.

He had to chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Are you excited for the Garden Show?"

She smiled. "Yes, I am, Mr. Thompson. A whole bunch of flowers... I can almost smell them."

He smiled as he offered her his arm, taking in her green dress with a floral pattern on it. "I see you are dressed for the occasion."

She shrugged. "When in Rome."

"Well, Darling, you might be the loveliest flower there today," he grinned.

Estelle blushed, "Speaking of other attendees... will Mr. Cavanaugh be there? Annalise was hoping to meet him."

"I sent him the invitation. Whether or not he chooses to appear is up to him. William is a bit of a free spirit," Christian grinned.

"I figured as much," Estelle smiled, "Well, let's get going. Flowers wait for no one."

The two of them quickly made their way to the Temple Gardens, taking in the colorful explosion on the various marquees.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many flowers in one place," Estelle murmured in awe. The displays were spectacular. There was one that was in the shape of an Elephant, crowned with roses. It was titled the _Maharaja_. There were steps built into the side so that one could walk up to sit in the caravan of sunflowers on its back. They walked along, admiring the various displays until they came across Annalise waiting by a woman selling roses. Coincidentally, they saw Mr. Cavanaugh waiting across the way.

"William!" Christian called out, waving him over. The four met up near a bench off to the side of the foot traffic.

"Christian," William smiled, clapping him on the back. He then respectfully bowed to Estelle. "Ms. Devereux, a pleasure as always."

"Mr. Cavanaugh, I'd like you to meet my friend, Annalise Renton," Estelle said, gesturing to Anna. "Anna, this is Mr. William Cavanaugh."

William's eyes widened slightly as he met Annalise's eyes. He gallantly stepped forward to take her hand and kiss it. "Ms. Renton, I'm thoroughly enchanted by your presence."

Annalise blushed, "Mr. Cavanaugh, I've heard quite a bit about you."

William blushed, "All good things, I pray."

"Only the best," Annalise smiled.

With some reluctance, he let go of her hand. Christian and Estelle shared a smile and a look.

"Well, since Mr. Thompson is escorting me around, I think it would only make sense for you to escort Ms. Renton, don't you, Mr. Cavanaugh?"

William swallowed, and nodded. "O-of course. I would be delighted." He offered Annalise his arm. "Ms. Renton, may I have the honor?"

"You may," Annalise replied coyly, slipping her arm into his. The couples broke off to explore more, but Estelle kept an eye on her friends.

"They're getting along quite nicely," Estelle murmured to Christian.

"Even if they are in two different leagues," Christian replied sadly.

Estelle felt a slight pang of guilt. "Do you think I shouldn't have introduced them?"

"I don't know, Darling. Part of me feels as though we've set them up for failure, but they are also adults and can make their own decisions. If I'm being honest, William does have some background in society. He just turned his back on it for the Bohemian lifestyle. His sister is currently in charge of the estate, but I'm sure if he ever wanted to come back, he'd be welcomed with open arms," he explained.

Estelle nodded. That made her feel a little better.

They stopped in front of a maze. It was made out of hedges and potted trees.

"Step up and test the strength of your love!" a barker said beside it.

"How do you suppose we do that?" Christian asked, taking the bait.

"You see, lad. You and your lovely lady here will each enter the maze from two different sides. You'll each be given a map, but the directions are for your partner's path. It's up to you to make it to the center of the maze together, because you need two hands to open the gate under the lover's arch which leads to the stairs to get out of the maze," the barker replied as he pointed at the stairs. They were decorated with a rainbow made of flowers, going over the entire maze, leading from what was presumably the center to the a path outside the maze which led back to the event.

"What do you say, Ms. Devereux, shall we test our relationship?" Christian asked in amusement.

"I think it will be fun," she smiled.

Christian paid the man for their maps and then they lined up at their respective starting lines. When the barker nodded at them, they entered the maze.

"Alright, Ellie, it looks like you need to take a right at the fork up ahead," Christian called out.

"And you had better take the middle path," Estelle replied.

Together, they worked their way through the maze of green. The further along they got, the darker the sky became as the day whittled away. When they broke into the opposite sides of the center clearing, it was like an explosion of color between the sunset above and the flowers around. There were red roses, pink peonies, yellow sunflowers, and many more flowers that Estelle didn't even recognize. She slowly turned in a circle, taking it all in before facing the heart shaped arch covered in flowers. There was a door with instructions as to how to open it.

"This is beautiful," she murmured.

"It is," Christian replied, coming up behind her. He gently wrapped his arms around her waist as they spent a moment together in silence, just admiring the view.

"I suppose we should figure out the gate," she replied, looking up at the sky. "It's getting late. They should be starting the end of event fireworks soon."

"In a moment," he replied. "I was wondering if we could talk about something important."

Estelle turned in his arms to face him. "Of course."

"Well, I think this maze proved the strength of our bond rather nicely," he smirked.

"We did manage to get through it together," she smiled back.

"And that's just it. We did it together, just like old times. You make all of this not feel like I'm just playing a part. My father and I have been having some difficulties at home due to how I present myself and the fact that I probably talk too much. I love the fact that with you, I can just be myself, even if for a moment. Part of me... wants to make that moment last forever," he murmured, gently reaching out to cup her cheek. He stroked his thumb across her soft skin. The darkness was quickly setting in around them as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon. All around, little fireflies came to life from within the flowers.

"That's the problem with moments," she replied, "Their own nature means that they can't last forever."

"I suppose I'll just have to create so many moments that it feels as if they never end," he smiled, pulling her into him.

She broke out in a grin as he hugged her close, spinning her around a bit. When he set her back down, she felt that familiar magnetic pull into him. Her eyes closed as his hands settled on her face to bring her in for a kiss. She melted into him as flickers of light lit up the sky as fireworks boomed themselves into noisy existence before twinkling out into the vast expanse of the night sky. It was funny, really, seeing the physical manifestations of the way kissing him made her feel. As the fireworks started to speed up, crackling in a crescendo above them to signify the finale, they pulled apart, looking up at the sky to watch. Well, Estelle watched. Christian was too busy watching how the lights illuminated Estelle's face, highlighting her features in a way that he wish he could put into words. A silence settled in after the last firework fizzled out of existence with less fanfare than had accompanied its creation. Estelle's eyes settled back down from the sky to find Christian's blue gaze intent on her face.

"They'll be looking for us," she replied.

"We should go find them," he agreed.

Together, they opened the gate and crossed the rainbow bridge back to the event. They found their friends deep in discussion on a bench.

"There you two are," Annalise grinned. "We were beginning to think that you had left us behind."

"And leave without saying goodbye? Perish the thought," Estelle teased.

Annalise's eyes narrowed on Estelle and Christian, taking in how they were standing with each other. Something had changed. That much she knew.

"Well, Ms. Renton, I've had a lovely evening with you," William announced.

"Perhaps we could share a carriage?" Annalise proposed.

"That will be a trip for the two of you," Christian replied. "I'll be walking Ms. Devereux home. It isn't far and it's a lovely night."

Annalise nodded. "Alright, well, take care, you two." Then, she turned to Mr. Cavanaugh. "Shall we?"

"We shall," he smiled as he led her away.

Christian and Estelle chuckled as they watched them leave.

As Estelle and Christian made their way back to her home, they walked in silence for a moment.

"Thank you," Christian finally said.

"For what?" she asked in confusion.

"Always supporting me. With everything going on with at home, having your support has meant a lot," he murmured.

Estelle tipped up and kissed his cheek. "I'll always be here for you. Besides, the sooner that society sees that the Bohemians value some of the same things as they do, the better. For instance, that flower show would be a Bohemian's dream. All that beauty in one place? Truly magnificent."

He gave her a slight smile. "I guess you're right."

They came to a stop in front of her house. "Well, here we are now. This has been a perfect night," she sighed in content.

"It really has," he grinned.

"Will I see you soon?" she asked.

"I hope so," he replied, "Well, good night, Ms. Devereux."

He bowed slightly to her before turning to leave, but she took hold of his arm to stop him.

"Christian, wait."

"What is it?" he asked in concern.

"Well... I couldn't let you leave without letting you know that I want to create as many moments with you as you'll allow," she said softly.

He broke out in a wide grin, "And now that you have?"

"Now I can say good night," she smiled, gently letting her hand drop from his arm.

"Good night, Ellie."

"Good night, Christian."

Estelle made her way back into her house, leaning her back against the door as she heard it click closed behind her. Oh, what a night. 


	6. Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

Time ticked on and the season was drawing to a close. Estelle had begun to see Christian less and less outside of societal events, and when she did see him, he wasn't his normal exuberant self. He'd even declined going with her and Annalise to Mr. Cavanaugh's on multiple occasions. Something wasn't right, and she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Yet, she pushed those thoughts away, if not for her sake, then for her family's. Especially after a conversation that she had had with her father about his disappointment in her.

They were seated at the dining room table on this night when she had no societal obligations. An uncomfortable silence had settled around the table as her father leveled her a hard stare.

"Did you hear that the youngest of the Thurston girls has received a proposal?" he asked.

"No, Father, I hadn't heard. However, that is good news. Marian must be happy," Estelle replied.

"Marian is from a lesser family than you, she has less talents and wit than you, and yet she has secured a marriage proposal before you. Do you see what is wrong with this?" her father pressed. "My name should be able to find you a suitable match, and yet you are wasting your time on fanciful men who are not even giving you the time of day anymore."

Estelle bristled at his comments. She wanted to defend Marian Thurston, because Marian was a gentle soul and a formidable catch in her own right, but she knew better than to stand up to her father. She wanted to dispute her father over Christian as well, but then she realized that he was correct. Perhaps she _was_ wasting her time on him. However, after all of the discussions they had had, after all of their history, she didn't know if she would be happy being married to anyone else. No one else understood her like Christian, or supported and encouraged her like he did. If she were to match with anyone else who her father deemed suitable, they would clip her wings and keep her grounded. They would dash her hopes and dreams, and snuff out the brilliant candle that was her mind. She'd be relegated to being a simple housewife and mother, prized for her biological usefulness and not the things that she felt were her true assets. Yet, she had a duty to her family. Estelle decided to at least humor her father.

"What would you have me do?" she asked as she daintily cut into her food.

"An old friend of your grandfather has a grandson of marriageable age. I shall reach out to arrange a meeting. You will go with him and put your best foot forward. We may be able to salvage this season after all," her father huffed.

Estelle looked down at her plate. "Yes, Father."

After dinner, she and her sister retired to the parlor to work on their patterns. They sat in silence for a moment before Mary spoke up.

"Surely you can't go on an outing with that other man," Mary murmured.

"I have to, Mary. You heard father. I need to find a match, and I just have to accept that perhaps Christian doesn't feel the same way about me as I do about him," Estelle sighed.

"That is nonsense and you know it," Mary shot back. "The man practically worshipped at your feet."

"Mary, I haven't seen Christian outside an event in weeks. He doesn't even come with Anna and I to see Mr. Cavanaugh anymore. Something has changed. I don't know what it is, but something has changed in him. He's less... he's less himself," she murmured.

"That's only more of a reason for you to try and win him over. Have you considered calling on him?" Mary asked.

"Mary, you know the protocol. It isn't proper for an unmarried woman to call upon a man. I shouldn't chase him. That might only make him run faster," she replied.

"How do you know that it's _you_ that he's running from?" Mary asked with a raised brow. Then, she looked down at her pattern. "My stitches are getting sloppy. I should go to bed. Tell Ms. Renton that I say hi when you go to sneak out later."

"Mary-"

" _Please_ , I'm not as deep of a sleeper as father is. Don't worry, though. Your secret is safe with me. I only wish I could go with you," Mary smiled. "Have fun, sister. I hope he's there tonight."

"Me, too," Estelle sighed.

After wrapping up her needlework, Estelle changed for her outing with Annalise. Then, she waited for the familiar rocks at the window. Or, around the window. Annalise never did have an affinity for sports. When she heard the signal, she slipped through the servants stairs and out the back to find her friend waiting there. She had a slight rip in her dress.

"Oh, Anna, what happened?" Estelle asked.

"My dress caught on the lattice when I crawled out the window," she shrugged. "I'll just say that it got stuck in my closet and ripped when I went to pull it out. I'm sure it will be fixed in no time."

"Anna, is there a reason you never use a door when you sneak out?" Estelle asked with a shake of her head.

"Elle, if I'm going to sneak out, I am fully committed to sneaking out. Besides, Romeo crawled up a balcony. Juliet can climb down a lattice."

Estelle chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. "Anna, you're terrible. Let's get going."

The two of them made their way down the street to where Mr. Cavanaugh was waiting for them.

"Mr. Cavanaugh, if you're here, then who is hosting your soiree?" Estelle questioned.

"My dear Ms. Devereux, my home is very open-door. I'm sure the others are thoroughly entertaining themselves. Besides, my main priority is making sure that the two of you arrived there safely. After all, London is not always friendly to a woman out alone by herself," William grinned. He offered the two ladies his arms and started the walk back to his house.

"Have you heard from him at all?" Estelle asked quietly.

"No, my dear. I'm truly sorry, but I haven't. He hasn't returned any of my telegrams, either," William sighed.

"That isn't like him," she murmured.

"I'm beginning to wonder if his father is keeping my correspondence from him," William replied.

"He did say that his life at home was leaving much to be desired when we were at the flower show," she replied, looking up at him. "You don't think...?"

"The two might be related, but that doesn't explain his new indifference towards you," Annalise chimed in.

"Indifference?" William asked in confusion.

"Will, whenever they're at the same event he's not as... _talkative_ with her. He seems like he's somewhere else, or that he's holding back. It's odd, because when she walks in, he can't take his eyes off her, and he'll watch her interact with everyone, but when it comes to him actually interacting with her... he hesitates," Annalise said thoughtfully. "I've been showing up to events earlier lately so that I could observe and perhaps give my best friend some insight, and that is just what I've noticed."

Estelle looked down as they stopped outside of his building. "Do you think I could have done something wrong, Mr. Cavanaugh?"

William let go of Annalise for a moment to comfort Estelle. He gently took her hands in his. "Ms. Devereux, from what I've seen, its very hard for you to do anything wrong. You're a formidable woman, and we are all better people for having you in our lives."

Annalise came up beside him and smiled. "He's right, Elle. You light up a room like the sun shining through the clouds."

"I believe you both have it backwards. I am better for having the two of _you_ as friends," she smiled softly. "Now, let's get inside."

William went ahead to hold the door for them. They found the usual suspects upstairs, waiting and ready for a debate.

"Well, my lovely lads and lasses, what shall we discuss tonight?" William asked.

"Proposals," Annalise replied. "If I have to hear about another one of them while I myself have not received one, I may scream."

"Proposals it is," William chuckled. He looked around at James, Luise, Jennifer, and John to see if they objected.

"Then I suppose we might also discuss the societal pressures of marriage," James replied.

"I don't see what's so wrong with proposals," Luise replied. "After all, diamonds are a girl's best friend."

"Yes, but they didn't always give diamond rings for presents. That practice only really started when the Queen started to mine South Africa for diamonds," John added.

"How is it that one little piece of jewelry can mean so much?" Jennifer asked. "After all, it isn't as if you can't have a relationship without it, and even if you do have it, it isn't as if it's binding."

John chuckled at the obvious jab that his mistress had just given at his own marriage. "Yes, well, I think it's the sentiment that they are expensive and if someone has purchased one for you then they value you enough to spend top dollar on your happiness."

"For me, a proposal is a milestone in your relationship. That is why it is such a big to-do in society. It's a person publicly claiming that they want you to be theirs," Annalise added.

"Yet, it isn't permanent. People break engagements on occasion," William replied.

"Yes, but at their own peril. If you break enough engagements, society looks down on you," Estelle offered.

"Do we think... that the practice of proposing is the issue, or rather how people do it?" James asked thoughtfully.

"I don't think there is anything wrong with declaring your intentions. I think that the pressure of society to make it noteworthy and perfect is misguided. Relationships are not perfect. Not to mention, needing a diamond makes it so that people who can't afford it feel less than adequate if they were to ask someone to marry them," Estelle replied.

"Would you want a diamond, Ms. Devereux?" William asked.

"Honestly, Mr. Cavanaugh? I don't think I would. For starters, there are so many gemstones that I prefer more, which would make for a more unique piece. Not to mention, I wouldn't want someone to feel obligated to buy me a diamond, because every gift after that would just be compared to it, and I don't ever want my partner to think they haven't done enough to keep me satisfied based on a trivial gemstone they bought me however many years prior to our marriage," Estelle replied.

"So, buying a diamond ring is setting your marriage up for failure?" Luise asked with a laugh.

"Not at all, but I don't want my marriage based on material things. The ring doesn't matter to me, but the love does. The man could give me an oddly shaped boot buckle, and if I loved him enough I'd say yes," Estelle replied.

William looked at Annalise. "What about you, Ms. Renton, would you require a diamond?"

A rosy tint settled on her face. "I agree with Elle. Diamonds may be nice, but they're not required. You can't build a relationship on a foundation of diamonds."

"But you can on love," William replied with a knowing smile.

The conversation continued on, debating the various wedding practices into the early hours of the morning. The others started to disperse, leaving just William, Estelle, and Annalise behind.

"Well, ladies, I do believe it's time to escort you home," William replied, stretching slightly.

"Unfortunately, I must agree. I have to go out with a new potential suitor tomorrow to appease my father," Estelle said with a sarcastic smile.

"That sounds awful, Elle," Annalise replied. "Do you know them?"

"No, but apparently they are related to an associate of my mother's father, so you can only guess how well that will go," Estelle sighed, getting up to leave.

William cast Annalise a look and she explained.

"Her mother's father was a high noble. If this person is from that circle then they will probably be very pompous, stuffy, and boring," Annalise replied.

"So, in other words, not Christian," William murmured.

Annalise nodded, getting up to follow her friend. William pulled on his hat and walked them back to their respective homes. Once home, Estelle settled right in for bed, dreading the next day.

The suitor, Mr. Anderson, came calling around ten, and they went for a walk. It was the longest walk of Estelle's life even though it only lasted an hour. In the back of her mind, Estelle remembered how Annalise talked about Mr. Phillips and realized that she now understood her friend's pain. The conversation was very light, never delving any deeper than the surface of topics, not to mention he was very full of himself. The whole time he only discussed himself and what his life was like. Whenever she tried to add anything, he would cut her off and go on about himself. She couldn't tell if she wasn't interested because she was interested in someone else, or if she wasn't interested because the man was as dull as a spoon. He was handsome, at least, but just because something was nice to look at, does not mean that is sparks deeper emotional feelings.

"Mr. Anderson, what are you looking for in a wife?" Estelle asked on the walk back.

"I'm looking for someone to raise my children and to run the estate while I attend to more important matters," he replied, like that should be obvious. "I'm looking for someone who is adept at social interactions and can be the perfect hostess."

"Oh, so you're looking for someone to manage your life and make you look good while you contribute absolutely nothing to enriching her life except monetary gain?" she asked with a sweet smile, although her words were harsh.

The man's eyes darkened in annoyance. "Why, yes. I suppose I am."

"Do you want to even love your wife?"

"That isn't necessary," the man scoffed.

"If you don't love your wife, would you be so inclined to look elsewhere for that?"

Mr. Anderson bristled at her brash line of questioning. "Ms. Devereux, you should learn to hold your tongue."

"And you should learn that relationships are about give and take, although that must be hard considering that your ego must create its own gravitational pull, so you are inclined to having the world revolve around you," Estelle shot back as she reached the front of her house. "Mr. Anderson, please do not call upon me again."

She entered her house, leaving the man dumbfounded on the steps.

"Well, how did it go?" Mary asked. "Did he like you?"

"Oh, I left him _speechless_ ," Estelle replied with a small smirk as she went up the stairs to her room.

The house was comfortably quiet until her father came home from work. Then, it became dangerously quiet. She was sitting in the library reading a book when her father entered and shut the door behind him. That was never a good sign.

"Estelle, is this a joke to you?" he asked with a quiet anger.

"No, Father, the last time I checked, _Othello_ was a tragedy," she replied absentmindedly.

"I'm not talking about your literature, _child_ , I'm talking about your place in society. I received a very angry telegram from your grandfather today," her father ground out.

Oh no. Her father and her grandfather already were on precarious terms due to her mother choosing her father instead of someone who was more noble. If her grandfather had sent her father a nasty telegram, then she was about to be on the receiving end of decades worth of frustration and anger. Mr. Devereux had never felt good enough for Margarent's father, and spent most of his time trying to prove that he was. When Margaret passed away, he then had to prove that he was capable at navigating society without his wife to smooth things over.

"I'm sure Mr. Anderson was blowing things out of proportion," Estelle replied, placing her book on the table.

"You referred to his ego as having it's own gravitational pull?" he asked incredulously.

Estelle had to keep from laughing, "Father, he was _awful_. He only talked about himself."

"I don't care if he only talks about _trees_ , Estelle, I raised you better than this. You'll never find a husband if you keep acting like this. There was nothing wrong with that man, and he would have been a good, secure match. You won't find many more matches like that this late in the season," her father sighed in exasperation. He turned away from her, looking at the portrait of his wife that hung on the wall. He secretly begged her for the strength.

"There's always next year," she replied.

"Is there, Estelle? You of all people should know that a next year is never guaranteed," he replied sadly, raking his eyes down Margaret's painted face. Estelle looked so much like how her mother looked in that painting, suspended in time as a youthful woman.

Estelle felt tears sting her eyes. If her mother had been here now... she'd understand. She would have laughed when Estelle told her about her outing. She would have poured her a cup of tea and they would have gossiped about it all. She wouldn't have been disappointed in her. No, Mrs. Devereux was a kind soul who would have reassured her that the right match was out there, and that she shouldn't give up until she found it. Only... Mrs. Devereux _wasn't_ here. Estelle was left with the shell of the man who had loved her mother, who probably thought that marrying for love had been a mistake, because maybe if he hadn't loved his wife, losing her would have hurt so much less to the point where he might have been able to one day move on. A man who was secretly on the road to ruin because of trying desperately to save the wife that he loved so much, and who's only hope was having his daughter marry well enough that they could all live comfortably without ever having to find out just how bad it was.

"I'll try harder, Father," Estelle sniffed, swiping at her eyes.

"See to it that you do," her father replied before leaving.

Estelle pulled her knees to her chest in a way that would have been deemed improper for a woman of society. However, she didn't feel very much like that right now. She felt more like a child that was scolded for not knowing something that she had never been informed of. The clock on the wall ticked over and she knew dinner would be served soon. Gracefully, she picked herself up from the chair and went to go wash up. Mary gave her a concerned look as she noticed how red Estelle's eyes were as she glided past, but neither of them said anything.

Dinner was silent that night. None of them acknowledged the events of the day.

It wasn't until late that night that Estelle learned that what she had thought would be a horrible day was about to get a million times worse.

Pebbles flicked off her window and her heart leapt. Annalise hadn't made plans to go to Mr. Cavanaugh's that night. Perhaps... perhaps it was Christian? She didn't even bother to look. She just pulled on her robe and rushed out as quietly as she could to greet him. The grin on her face dissipated as she saw William and Annalise there. Neither of them looked thrilled to see her.

"I... I don't understand," she murmured, a frown settling on her face.

Annalise bit her lip and looked up at William. She nodded her head towards Estelle and William sighed. Hesitantly, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Estelle.

With a trembling hand, she reached out to take the paper from him. Their silence was scaring her. Gently, she unfolded the note and read it. Tears blurred her vision as she recognized the scrawling handwriting from the notes that she'd received over the years.

"No," she murmured, scanning the contents of the note.

Christian was gone.


	7. Rhythm of the Night

_Paris, 1899_

Christian wandered around the foreign city remembering the few visits he had taken there as a child. All the talk in the London Bohemian scene had been about how the 18th arrondissement of Montmartre was where the contemporary Bohemians of Paris had settled. Thus, Christian thought that there would be no better place to start his new life as a Bohemian writer than there. Perhaps he might cross paths with some of the greats, such as Emilie Zola, who was known to frequent the district. He didn't have much money to his name at the moment. Not after his fight with his father. Christian grimaced as he remembered the events leading up to him ending up in Paris.

_The door of his room slammed open when he had returned home late once again. He had thought that he was quiet enough, but his father had been awake and waiting for him. His father stormed in and chastised him for acting like a poor student -or, even worse, a Bohemian- when he was so much more than that._

_"You have one job, and that isn't to find the meaning of life,_ boy _, that's to find a wife! This is your third season. Get ahold of yourself and straighten that head on your shoulders. No boy of mine is going to be a bachelor forever. You need to take care of yourself, make something of yourself in society. You'll never do that if you keep on like this. If I keep hearing about you in the gossip pages, we will have an issue," his father huffed._

 _"But, father, I_ am _trying to find a wife! Why should I choose between following my own proclivities and the obligations of society when I can do both?" he asked._

_"If doing one takes away from the efforts to do the other, then you have to choose. Those ideals of yours won't get you far in life, Christian. A suitable match will," his father remarked. "Now, unless you stop this nonsense, I'll have no other choice but to cut you off."_

Stop being a Bohemian? _Christian thought,_ That's like asking me to stop breathing air! _His thoughts turned to Estelle. He'd be no good to her if he was poor and no longer worthy of participating in the Season, so he decided to try. He'd put more effort into being a better member of society. He tampered down his urge to rant about freedom, beauty, truth, and love, but he felt like by trying to please his father, he was becoming everything about the world that he despised. He was unhappy. He slipped further and further into a sense of resentment for everything society stood for. That was when he decided that he'd give up on society altogether. It wasn't a decision he had made lightly. He'd thought about the all the aspects of life in acceptable society and life outside of it, retreating into himself while he did so in order to soften the blow for when he did decide to leave. The final straw for Christian came after a week of dates arranged by his father. His father had received a telegram about how his son had been less than remarkable and very dull. When he confronted Christian about it, Christian broke._

_"I'm either too lively, or not lively enough!" he said in exasperation. "If I can't be me, then what's the point?"_

_"The point is to get ahead."_

_"No, the point of marriage should be love," he yelled back._

_"You'd best mind your tone, boy."_

_"Or what? You'll disown me?" he asked dangerously steady. "Is that it, father? Is that what this has come to?"_

_"If you don't have a wife, then you will not take over this family practice. If you're not going to continue my legacy, then what's the point of supporting you?" his father asked like it was the only logical conclusion._

_"Even if I did have a wife, taking over your practice isn't what I want from life," he sighed._

_"It doesn't matter what you want, what matters is what's good for you," his father said pointedly._

_"Father, the only person who knows what's good for me is me," Christian said. It was the truth, and it was a truth he'd been keeping from himself for a while. For years Christian had been acting as if everyone else knew what was good for him. First it was his father, then when he was older it was society. Now, though, now he knew better._

_"What are you going to do then, hmm? Become a poor penniless writer that starves to death in the streets because his words aren't enough?" his father asked._

_"No, you are wrong. I am going to be a writer. I may be penniless, and someday I may starve to death, but my words will always be enough for at least one person. I may not touch the world, but I may touch a few and that is enough," he said adamantly. "Writing isn't about publicity or praise. Those things may be nice, but that's not why people do it. People write because they have a truth that they have to share, and by sharing that truth it lets others who may think they are alone know that they are not."_

_"You're a fool," his father spat._

_"Perhaps," Christian said thoughtfully. "But I should prefer to be a happy fool than a disillusioned old man who gave up on his dreams before he'd finished dreaming them."_

_"You'll be cut off," his father said with weight._

_"I don't care," Christian said with a smile, "because I will be free."_

_That was the night he had left. He'd left with only his typewriter, his savings, and a change of clothes. He'd sent a telegram to William Cavanaugh, paused outside of Ms. Devereux's home for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt, and then hopped on the first ferry to France he could get on._

London was dreary in comparison to Paris. He'd noticed this as he made his way through the city. London was a world of muted colors, mostly dull grays and browns, whereas Paris almost came to life. That was especially true at night. The colors were rich and vibrant as he made his way through the streets. He'd been searching for an apartment, but found that he had to keep climbing the hill. As he got higher and higher up La Butte, he found that the apartments were more in his price range. He had a considerable amount saved, but he knew it wouldn't last long if he carried on here in the same lavish style as he had in London. He didn't mind being frugal, though. After all, he was a true Bohemian now, and that meant cutting corners and living in poverty.

Eventually, he found a space. It wasn't much. Simply a room, really. Sparsely furnished, but it was enough. A grin crossed his face at the freedom he felt. He didn't have any obligations to anyone but himself. It was a rush. Christian settled in to write, placing his typewriter on his desk. His fingers hovered over the keys, but he never got to type that first word. Much to his surprise, a man came crashing through his ceiling. Plaster was everywhere and he sputtered in shock, but the people looking through the hole in his ceiling didn't seem concerned in the slightest, much to _Christian's_ concern.

What he found upstairs was a group of Bohemian artists working on a play, who's star suffered from narcolepsy. Before he had any idea of what end was up, and his French being very rusty as it was, he was roped into this odd rehearsal, shoved into a pair of lederhosen and pushed up a ladder.

What an odd week this was turning out to be.

After rehearsal, he got to know his new neighbors better. He had truly hit the jackpot in this location. A short man by the name of Henri de Toulouse- Lautrec, affectionately called Toulouse for short, was the talk of London in the Bohemian circles. Christian was in awe that he was in the presence of such a great post-impressionist painter.

"So, Christian, what brings you to Paris?" Toulouse asked with a slight lisp, pouring him a glass of green liquid. Toulouse poured himself a glass, mixing in a darker amber liquid.

"Well, I was tired of pretending," Christian sighed, taking the drink. He took a sip and was taken aback by the anise flavor that washed over his tongue. _Absinthe_. He'd heard stories of the Green Fairy, but had never tried it before.

"Pretending?" Toulouse asked curiously.

"London society has no patience for free thought and the ideals like freedom, beauty, truth, and love. They expect you to go through life believing that money is happiness, and station is paramount."

"Titles don't matter when you're dead," Toulouse joked.

"No, but I suppose titles make it easier to remember you," Christian smiled.

"Anyone can call themselves what they please, and society can attribute whatever amount of respect to that title that they wish, but it means nothing in the grand scheme of things," Toulouse replied. "Especially if you didn't earn that title."

"The aristocracy is a sham," another neighbor spat.

"So you ran away from home?" Toulouse asked.

"Technically, yes? But, I've also been disowned," Christian said sheepishly.

"It sounds like you could use a distraction," the narcoleptic neighbor said, briefly rousing from sleep.

"I was going to write, actually," Christian replied.

"About what?" Toulouse laughed. "You haven't experienced Bohemia yet. You have thoughts, yes, but experience? Experience is what will add truth and weight to your words. It will make it raw. Tell me, Christian, what do you want to write about the most?"

"Love," he replied. "I think the greatest of the ideals is love. Love is in the air we breathe and you can never have too much of it."

"And have you ever been in love?"

Christian went to answer, but faltered. "W-well-"

"Did she love you back?"

"Perhaps," he murmured sadly. He felt that pang of guilt and regret in never having found out.

"There's very little truth in half answers," Toulouse replied. "Have you ever made love before?"

Christian blushed bright red. "I-I... W-well-"

Toulouse nudged his arm. "You can't create love on the page without knowing how it's made. I know exactly who to introduce you to, and maybe it will help you find something a bit steadier for when your savings run out."

Toulouse raised his glass, "To freedom!"

One of his other neighbors added, "To Beauty!"

The narcoleptic added, "To truth!"

Christian smiled, "To love."

They clinked their glasses together and drained them shortly after, laughing at the world and its bizarre nature to bring strangers together at the times when they needed to meet.

The plans were made, they'd all get dressed up and they'd go to the Moulin Rouge. Right at the edge of the Montmartre, nearly in Pigalle, the Moulin Rouge stood. Christian had only heard stories, the faintest of whispers even amongst the London Bohemian scene. Marked by the well-known windmill, the Moulin Rouge was a place where women raised their skirts to dance the can-can; it was a place where courtesans entranced the upperclass who could keep them until they had the next poor soul in their sights; and it was a place where one could see a belly-dancer in the infamous elephant should they be lucky enough. To describe the Moulin Rouge, would be to break every rule of decency in London society. Christian almost felt guilty for being there and having fun, like he was doing something wrong, something forbidden. He danced with the women, a rosy tinge on his cheeks at the foreignness of it all. The French were truly a different breed than what he was used to. A woman was lowered from the ceiling on a swing and Toulouse tapped his side.

"That's the Sparkling Diamond. If you get her on board with whatever you're writing, she'll be able to make it happen," he informed Christian.

"But she's just a courtesan," he replied in confusion.

"She's the _star_."

Christian looked up at the woman. She was beautiful. A part of him even admitted that he wouldn't mind falling love with someone like her, but she wasn't _the_ star. She was _a_ star, and she most certainly was not _his_ star.

Christian nodded. "I'll do my best."

When Toulouse mentioned an introduction, he hadn't expected this much sneaking around to be involved. Yet, here he finally was in her chambers after the show. What he also hadn't expected was this woman's reaction. He was trying to recite poetry to her, and she was actively throwing herself at him. What was happening? Was this a French custom?

The night got even more out of control when some Duke got involved and now they were pitching this show and it was all so overwhelming. Yet, somehow they all worked well together? He just hoped this went better than the last time he tried to put on a play.

_"Christian, I look ridiculous," Estelle groaned, coming out from behind the bedsheets they had pinned up as a makeshift curtain._

_Christian tried his best not to laugh. "Nonsense, Ellie, I think you look marvelous. You should wear raspberry rouge and lipstick more often."_

_She looked like a clown, but they were going for a blushing girl in love. Their tutor had encouraged them to act out scenes from the play they were reading for English,_ Romeo and Juliet.

_"Did you finish the balcony?" she sighed, wiping the last of the crushed raspberries off on her handkerchief._

_"Almost."_

_"And I won't fall off?" she asked pointedly._

_"That happened one time," he replied._

_"Once was enough! It ripped my skirts."_

_"You'll be fine this time. I promise," he said reassuringly._

_She wagged her finger at him. "I better be, Mr. Thompson, or so help me."_

_Their respective families settled into the seats they has arranged for them and they began. It was all going smoothly until Christian climbed up the 'balcony' and the structure started to sway._

_"Christian?" she hissed low enough that only he could hear._

_"Just keep going, darling, you'll be fine, we're almost through," he murmured._

_She nodded and continued with her lines, but she watched the piece of wood he was holding onto slowly break apart from the structure. Then, it was like time sped up and Christian was falling to the ground. She quickly knelt beside him and took his hand. She finished out the scene, staying in character with her lines. Their parents applauded politely, not quite sure if that had been planned._

_"I told you that you would be fine," Christian said sheepishly after they finished._

_Estelle smacked his arm. "That is the_ last _time I put on a play with you."_

Christian came back to reality, staring down at the typewriter he was trying to write his play on.

He missed her, and he knew he had truly bungled things up big time. He pulled on his coat and went to send another telegram to William, telling him where he was and inquiring as to the state of things at home. William would know what he meant.


	8. Green or Blue

Weeks turned to months and Christian felt himself becoming more and more familiar with Paris. When he first arrived, he would dance awkwardly to the rhythm of the night, and now his movements were fluid and second nature. His time was spent mostly writing or rehearsing, with the play slowly taking over his life. Getting to know Satine more and more, he grew to admire her, falling in love with the contrast that she represented. But, he knew they could never truly belong to each other. She was to be the Duke's, and he... well, he was beginning to wonder if his heart was truly his to give or if it still belonged to another. He thought of Estelle in fleeting moments, finding that the more he wallowed, the more disillusioned with this life he would become. Crumpled up papers littered his floor, the remnants of letters he destroyed before sending. None of them would be enough to undo the hurt he had undoubtedly caused her. He just hoped that she was happy wherever she was, and that she was being treated like the wonderful creature she was.

Words seemed to fail him every now and then as of late. He was stuck, unable to get past this one part in his draft where the penniless sitar player won over the courtesan. After spending hours with Satine trying to come up with a dialogue that felt natural, he'd gone home frustrated. He ran his hand through his hair as he fell back on his bed. The fact that the scene was later in the play comforted him, since he would have time to finish it, but he was still frustrated. He used to be able to wax on about love for hours, but lately he just found himself going through the motions. He could write treatises on freedom, beauty, and truth... but love? He was struggling. It vexed him even more that he couldn't write on the one topic he valued the most. His eyes fell over on the forgotten manuscript he had started when he first arrived in Paris. It had been left untouched for weeks, sitting there on the table and mocking him. His greatest love story, a story about falling in love while falling out of society, didn't have an ending. In truth, he didn't know how to end it, and thinking about how to end it was like a slap in the face. He could end it with the lovers growing apart, like some of the disillusioned literature of the time, but he wanted to give it a happy ending, but he also wanted that ending to be truthful. He sighed loudly. He could have a happy ending. Satine had offered him that happiness, and he could always go back to London if he was desperate enough. However, would he really be happy in either of those places? With Satine, he would never fully have her be his, and as much as he'd like to think he could handle that, deep down he knew it would tear him apart. In London, he'd grow bitter with society. Christian groaned.

"Is your play not going well?" a voice asked through the hole in his ceiling.

Christian looked up to find his short Parisian artist peering down at him.

"Toulouse, do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?" Christian asked.

Toulouse grimaced. "I feel like it's too early to be discussing what ifs. I think that if you've made a choice, then something told you it was the right thing to do in that moment."

Christian nodded. "And if you end up feeling miserable about it later?"

"Then you go upstairs to your neighbor's apartment and let him cheer you up," Toulouse grinned.

Christian smirked and shook his head. "I suppose I could use a distraction."

"Très bien," Toulouse winked before disappearing back into his apartment.

Christian went up the stairs and into the space, finding Toulouse staring intently at a canvas as he compared it to the woman in front of him.

"Christian, have you ever met Mademoiselle Avril?" Toulouse asked, gesturing to the woman.

"No, I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Although, I have seen you dance, Mademoiselle. You are quite good," he smiled.

"Call me Jane," she chuckled. "And, merci, Monsieur. They don't call me La Mélinite for nothing."

"Am I interrupting?" Christian asked.

"Not at all," Toulouse replied. "Besides, perhaps Jane can help with whatever is making you sigh so loud."

"I doubt that," Christian said with a sad smile.

"Try me," Jane challenged.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm not from here. I'm originally from London. I left a few months ago after being disowned by my father for wanting to join the Bohemian movement and be a writer," Christian told her.

"You're the one writing the play they're putting on at the Moulin, aren't you? It seems like you've achieved your goal," she replied.

"Yes and no," Christian sighed. "You see, I want to write about love, but I can't."

"Have you experienced love?" Jane asked.

"That's what I asked when he first got here!" Toulouse chuckled.

" _I have_ ," Christian said adamantly.

"Did she not love you back?" Jane followed up.

"I... I don't know," Christian admitted.

"You didn't ask her?" Jane asked incredulously.

"Well, I never really told her that I loved her either," Christian replied.

"Toulouse, you might have warned me that your friend is an idiot," Jane teased.

"He's friends with me, Jane, I thought it was implied," Toulouse winked.

Jane shook her head. "Men. Scoundrels of the Earth."

"Not intentionally," Christian reassured her.

"Oh, I know, some of you are not _intentionally_ ," she winked. "That doesn't change the fact that you are, though. However, if you never knew for certain that it was love, then perhaps that's why you can't write it. Deep down, you feel like a fraud. Or, maybe you just can't stand giving happiness to your characters when you denied it for yourself."

"That's silly," Christian replied.

"Hey, I'm not Freud, I'm just a woman who is trying to help you," she shrugged. "Have you spoken to her since you left?"

"No," Christian admitted.

"Thought about her?" Toulouse asked.

"Yes," Christian sighed. "When life gets quiet, she creeps in. Sometimes I'll see or do something and I'll think about how she might have enjoyed that. Sometimes I feel guilty when I'm with Satine, but then I have to remember that she could be with someone else. I'll write things and I'll realize they're conversations that she and I have had."

"You miss her," Jane commented sadly.

"I do."

"Do you still love her?" Toulouse asked as he swapped out to a new canvas.

"I... I don't know. I love what I remember, but she could be different now. I know I'm different now. She could hate me for leaving. She could have just been humoring me when I was there, and now she could be with someone who's better for her," Christian replied.

"Describe her," Toulouse smirked.

"What do you want to know?" Christian asked, sitting down on a backwards chair, resting his chin on the back.

"Everything. What does she look like? What does she think like?" Jane smiled, sitting down next to Toulouse.

"Well, she's my star. Her name is Estelle, but I've called her Ellie since we were kids," Christian smiled wistfully, "She's always been very headstrong, but she wants to do the right thing and sometimes that will outweigh her own wants. Her hair is dark, like roasted chestnuts in the winter. She usually has it pulled back out of her face these days, but back when we were younger, she always left it free so that she could feel the wind in her hair. It was quite funny, because she has these curls, and when she would run, they would bounce like a spring, always hitting her in the face. Perhaps that's why she has it pulled back now, so that it doesn't assault her face. She's pale, but not in a sickly way. It's almost as if the moon glows from within her skin. Her face fits perfectly in your hands when you hold it. Her lips are rosy, and her cheeks sometimes turn the color of a tomato if you say the right thing. She's not easy to ruffle these days, I think that comes mostly from having to grow up a little too soon after her mother died. However, when we were children she was quite easy to fluster," he grinned.

"So, she's a childhood friend of yours?" Jane asked.

"Yes, but we were out of touch for years. We only recently reconnected during the London social season," Christian explained.

"Is that when you fell in love with her?" Toulouse asked.

"I think a part of me has always admired her, but it didn't deepen until now. Prior to the season, the last time I had seen her, she seemed so small," he explained, brow furrowing. "Her mother had just started to become ill. Her mother would have headaches now and then, but they were starting to get more and more frequent and strong enough to keep her in bed. I suppose that was the beginning of the decline for her mother. She died a year and a half later."

A sad smile settled on his face as he remembered when she told him about it.

_He'd been looking for her so that they could go on another adventure into the nature behind their estates, but she wasn't home. He checked around their usual hiding spots until he spotted her sitting on the bank of the river, holding her knees to her chest. As he got closer, he could hear her sniffling._

_"Ellie?" he asked softly. "Are you alright?"_

_Estelle jumped and quickly rubbed her eyes. "I'm fine."_

_Christian frowned, settling down next to her. "You're crying."_

_"No, I'm not," she sniffed._

_"Ellie, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything," he said in concern, wrapping his arm around her._

_"It's my mother," she sighed. "Her headaches are getting worse. The doctor doesn't know why she keeps getting them. Dad said she has good days and bad days, but she's not... she's not the same even on those good days."_

_"What do you mean?" he asked._

_"She's tired easily. She used to love music, but now she's irritable at loud noises," Ellie explained. She turned to look at him with wide eyes. "Christian, I'm scared. I don't know what's happening to my mother."_

_"I'm sure the doctor will be able to help her," Christian reassured her, but he knew that wasn't always the case. "I'm here for you, Ellie. No matter what. I promise."_

_Estelle nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You're a good friend, Christian."_

"And her eyes?" Toulouse asked.

"Hmm?" Christian asked, coming out of it.

"You didn't describe her eyes," Toulouse repeated.

"Well her eyes are..." he trailed off. He tried to picture her, but for some reason he couldn't see her eye color in his mind's eye. "They're... they're either green or they're blue."

"You can't remember?"

"I think I've forgotten," Christian said softly. "But, they are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen. She's got a quiet strength in them. A resolve. I just hope that resolve never turns into resignation."

Toulouse smiled and moved his hands across the canvas.

"What was it like seeing her again?" Jane asked, noticing that Christian's demeanor had become solemn.

Christian perked up at the question. "It was... well... I had a few feelings in that moment. First of all, I saw her before she had first seen me," he chuckled. "I had introduced myself to this one woman who turned out to be Ellie's best friend. A dumb stroke of luck on my part. I only introduced myself to Ms. Renton because the bow on her dress had come untied and I didn't want her to trip. Then, we started talking, and I looked over her shoulder and saw my Ellie with the Queen. Part of me felt like returning home after being on a long trip away, wondering how things would have changed while I was gone. Another part of me was feeling a rush of nerves, because I wasn't sure that she'd recognize me, and if she didn't, then would she remember me? Then, the last part of me felt like I was being visited by some celestial creature. Watching her walk across the ballroom, I saw the spark in her eyes and I knew she remembered me."

"What was she wearing?" Toulouse asked.

"A green dress, embroidered with flowers. It was fitting, really," he said with an amused smirk.

"How so?" Jane asked curiously.

"You see, later that night we discussed how women were like flowers," Christian smiled dreamily at the memory. "She always did have a way with words and metaphors."

"Even more so than you?" Toulouse asked.

"We had the same tutor for a while growing up," Christian explained. "She always did get better marks than I did in English. She was especially fond of poetry."

"Have you ever written her a poem?"

"No. I haven't. I don't think I could capture all those feelings into one poem. It would take a novel to tell her how I felt," he sighed.

Toulouse finished what he was painting and leaned back. "Then, write her a novel, Christian."

"I've tried. I've gotten thoroughly stuck with the ending," he explained.

"Write the truth," Toulouse replied.

"That's the problem, I've run out of truth to write," Christian groaned.

"Then _your_ story isn't over, either," Toulouse winked.

"She's in London," Christian sighed, "I'm here. That's as over as it could get."

Toulouse shook his head and got off his stool. He took his painting and turned it to show Christian. It was a portrait of Estelle based off the descriptions that Christian had been able to provide. "Physically, she may be in London, mon ami, but we both know the place she truly resides is right here," he said, tapping Christian's chest.

"Toulouse," Christian said softly, taking the painting from him. His eyes scanned over the picture. Toulouse had taken a gamble and painted blue eyes.

"Blue. They definitely are blue," Christian murmured, seeing her almost as if she were actually there. He turned to his friend and frowned, "I don't have anything to pay you with."

"Consider it a thank you for your friendship," Toulouse waved him off. "Most people would have fixed the hole by now. But, I appreciate you not forcing me to. It leaves more funds for art supplies."

Christian grinned and shook his head. "I'll go hang it up."

"Perhaps you should write home while you're at it?" Jane asked, getting up to leave. "I have to get back to the Moulin, but I'll see you two later."

Christian walked out with her and returned to his own apartment. Surveying the walls, he finally found a place to put it, sitting down on his couch to admire it. Perhaps Toulouse was right. Perhaps their story wasn't over yet. One could only hope. His gaze fell over to his typewriter and he sighed. Pulling out a piece of paper, he quickly typed up a letter to William. Then, he put it in an envelope and dropped it in the mail on his way to the Moulin Rouge for rehearsal.

As he walked into the space, Satine sidled up to him. "You seem different tonight."

"I've had a lot on my mind," he smiled.

"I see. Well, if you want, I can help clear your mind and make it go blank for a bit," she winked.

He blushed, coughing slightly to recover. "T-that's... I-I mean..."

"Alright, people, I want you all to get to work, this is my money you're wasting," The Duke huffed as he strode into the building, dropping his coat and hat into Christian's arms.

"My dear," the Duke smiled at Satine, offering her his arm.

Satine plastered her smile on and took it, but she turned to Christian and pointedly told him, "Think about it."

The Duke led her away and Christian let out a shaky breath. Rehearsal started and he went to work on the script. However, his mind went places, thinking about what Satine had said, but the Satine in his head quickly morphed into Estelle. He blushed even darker, a bit ashamed of thinking about her like that. Christian turned his attention back to rehearsal, forgetting about the script and getting lost in his previous words being spoken aloud. The first few scenes were good, and they were working on blocking it all in between dance numbers. Slowly though, people started to trickle away to get ready for that night's entertainment until it was only Christian left in the space. His mind replayed the penniless sitar player meeting the courtesan. He wondered what it might be like to meet Ellie again for the first time since becoming his own penniless self. Would she reject him like the courtesan does initially, or would she be happy to see him? All he knew was that should the world deign to put them together again, he would be over the moon.


	9. One Day I'll Fly Away

The season had come and gone and Estelle walked around like an empty shell of herself. London seemed less interesting, less like home without Christian. The only solace she had were her talks at William Cavanaugh's house. She spent most of her time there, now. Sneaking out by saying that she would be visiting with Annalise. They were lies, but only Mary really knew, and Mary didn't have the heart to give her up. She could see the tension between her sister and her father. Mr. Devereux's disappointment was palpable in the air whenever she came back without having a marriage proposal or at least an intention of courting from someone. He'd set her up on countless outings with the sons of his business partners, and she had managed to ruin any future with them all. His disappointment came to a head one morning at the breakfast table.

"Estelle, you're running out of eligible men in London, and you are ruining your name. Do you wish to become a social pariah, child? Because if you keep this up, you won't last another season," he huffed, watching his daughter pick at her breakfast.

"They're not suitable, father," Estelle replied.

"They may not be suitable to _you_ , but they are suitable to _me_ ," he shot back.

Estelle looked at her father with such scorn, the likes of which Mary had never seen before. "Yes, well, you are not the one marrying them."

"You are my daughter, and I will give you to whomever I deem fit," he replied. His words were cold, but they felt like a hot slap across the face, shocking at first, and then a searing pain settles in.

Estelle calmly stood up from the table and left.

"Where do you think you are going? You haven't been dismissed," her father commented.

Estelle shook her head and continued out the door. "Prior engagement."

Mary sat in stunned silence. No one had ever walked out on her father before.

"She's too much like your mother," he sighed. "She'll ruin us."

Mary looked at her father for a moment, as if seeing him for the first time. Quietly, she asked, "May I be dismissed?"

He nodded.

She got up to leave, pausing at the door. She turned back to him and asked, "Ruin us, or ruin _you_?"

Her father swallowed and she left to catch Estelle before she left.

"Elle!"

"Mary, I don't want to hear it. I need air. I'm going for a walk," she replied, her hand on the front door.

"I know. Just... be safe and tell Will and Anna I say hello," Mary smiled.

Estelle nodded before going out the door. In truth, there was no prior engagement. She just needed to breathe. Her house was suffocating. She was being crushed under the weight of her father's expectations. Her social card was no longer her own these days. Her _nights_ , however... those were a different story. She spent more time at Grub Street than she did sleeping, but she didn't care. Why dream of freedom in her sleep when she could live it? Her feet carried her on their own accord to just outside of William's building. She shouldn't be here, not in broad daylight. No respectable woman would be seen here, and her father would be furious should he find out.

"Fancy seein' you here, sweetheart," a voice called from across the street.

Estelle turned towards the voice and grinned, spotting its owner in the window of the building opposite. "Poppy!"

"Been seein' a lot of you lately out my window at night when I'm... _preoccupied_ ," Poppy smirked. "Come on up. Let's catch up."

Estelle looked around the street. A whorehouse. She was about to enter a house of ill repute in the middle of the morning. This might as well happen. Swiftly, she made her way over and into the house. The smell was oppressive, and the house looked like it needed some repairs. The wallpaper was peeling off the wall, and there was a layer of dust around the chandeliers, but she could tell that it had been nice at one point. Cautiously, she made her way up the stairs which creaked under her feet. She walked past open doorways, catching glimpses of naked women either sleeping or in other states of _relaxation_. Then, she found Poppy, smoking a cigarette while looking out her window. Gently, Estelle knocked on the door.

Poppy's eyes lit up as she turned towards her. "It's different to see you in the daylight. You're a proper woman, Ms. Devereux."

Estelle blushed. "Yes, well, so are you."

Poppy looked down at her night gown and laughed. " _Proper_ is a relative term."

"So it seems," Estelle smiled.

"Well, come and have a seat. I've got a fresh pot of tea we can split," Poppy said, clearing off two of the chairs by her bed.

Estelle walked over and daintily sat on the edge of the chair, finding it to be surprisingly comfortable for its shabby design. Poppy poured them each a cup of tea before fixing her with a hard look.

"What is it?" Estelle asked nervously as she picked up her teacup.

"I'm not quite sure, but you seem melancholy," Poppy replied.

"What makes you think that?"

"Darling, you don't get so great at my profession without being able to pick up on these things," she winked. "I fulfill needs. All of them."

Estelle sighed, "I _have_ been having a difficult time lately."

"Is it because that man of yours isn't here anymore?" Poppy asked.

Estelle choked on her tea, "Well, he wasn't exactly _mine_ to begin with..."

"I saw the two of you together," Poppy murmured. "As much as I make love for a living, you can never buy _that_."

Estelle looked down, "Yes, well. He left a while ago. He's with the Bohemian's in Paris, now."

Poppy's eyes widened, "Like at the _Moulin_? Oh, darling, you may never seen him again."

"What makes you say that?" Estelle asked.

"Well, I may be _good_ , but the girls at the places that those Parisians frequent, like the _Moulin Rouge._.. Well, they are the _best_."

"Do you really think Christian could be with one of them?" Estelle murmured.

"I'd like to say no, but they are very skilled at ensnaring men, so anything is possible," Poppy shrugged.

Estelle bit her lip. "Teach me."

Poppy laughed, "Teach you what?"

"How to be like that," she replied. "If Christian is looking for someone a little more... _worldly_ , then perhaps I should try to be that."

"Don't be anything you're not for a man," Poppy said pointedly.

"Poppy, I'm not asking you to make me a prostitute. I'm just asking you to teach me a little more about what you do and... maybe a classier way to incorporate it into my daily life," Estelle said hopefully.

"You want to learn how to talk dirty, but in high society? Is that what you're asking me to do?" Poppy asked.

Estelle shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed, "I just want to do things that might set his heart racing."

"Darling, what I can teach you will definitely get his blood pumping, but just to other places," Poppy winked.

Estelle leaned forward as Poppy began to teach her about suggestive phrasing.

"It's not always about the words you say, but rather the tone of voice and the hazy meaning behind it," Poppy explained after it was all over.

"Right, therefore I can turn something innocuous into something more charged based off the situation and how I say it," Estelle smiled.

"Oh, I'd like to see him leave you now," Poppy grinned.

Estelle deflated slightly, "R-right."

"Darling, I didn't... I mean... Oh, this is what happens when you befriend a whore. We say what comes into our heads without thinking about it first," Poppy said, resting her hand on top of Estelles. "I apologize. I'm sure he didn't leave you when he left."

"No, you're right. In a way, he did. He may have told William that he was leaving because of his father, but by leaving London, he did leave me," Estelle sighed, getting up. "Thank you for your kindness, Poppy."

"Atwell," Poppy murmured. "Poppy Atwell. I haven't said that part of my name in years, but I feel like I can trust you with it."

Estelle smiled at her. "Have a good day, Ms. Atwell."

"You as well, Ms. Devereux," Poppy nodded.

Estelle made her way back outside, running into William's chest.

"Ms. Devereux?" he asked in confusion.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," she said sheepishly.

"Were you just... leaving a whorehouse?" he asked carefully.

"This stays between us," she said sternly.

"You know I can't keep anything from Anna," he said in exasperation.

"I mean it, William," she replied.

"Estelle, I can't lie to her. She has a way of knowing whenever I'm keeping something from her. It's honestly a little frightening," he responded.

Estelle sighed.

"What were you doing there, anyway?" William asked.

"I was talking to a friend."

"Your friend is a prostitute?"

"Listen, have I ever judged you?" Estelle asked pointedly.

"No," he replied, running his hand through his hair. "May I escort you home?"

"I would prefer not to go home," she murmured.

"To Anna's, then?" He asked, holding out his arm for her.

She nodded, taking it.

"William, I know he didn't leave because of me, but that doesn't make it any easier," she sighed after turning off of Grub Street.

"I know, my dear. He really knows how to bungle things up, doesn't he?" he replied, gently tapping his hand on hers where it rested on his arm.

"I just wish he would write to me," she replied. "To let me know that he's alright."

"He's tried," William replied without thinking.

"What do you mean?" Estelle asked. "Has he written to you?"

"Estelle, he doesn't know what to say to you. He knows he's misstepped when it comes to you, and he isn't quite sure how to recover," William said, committing to telling her the truth.

"He talks to you?" she asked softly, feeling something in her break.

"Yes, but all he does is talk to me about you. He asks me how you're doing, if you've met a match, and if you are happy."

"William, I can't keep going on like this," she admitted. "My father wants me to move on and find someone else to court, but how can I move on when Christian is my future?"

"How do you know that he is?"

"How do you know that Anna is?" she countered.

William sighed and looked down. "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside that I get when I'm with her."

"Like a swarm of butterflies in your stomach that make you feel as though you could just be lifted into the air by it?" Estelle asked with a faraway look on her face.

"Or like I'm riding atop a carriage while drunk like I used to back in college. You feel a rush of excitement when you see them and you know that regardless of what happens, you'll have a good time," he chuckled.

"Did Christian also ride these carriages with you?' she laughed.

"Heaven's no. I needed someone to drive," he grinned.

Estelle shook her head at him as they made it to Annalise's house. They both waited for Annalise in her parlor. The grin that grew on William's face was as bright as the sun when she glided into the room.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," Annalise smiled. "What a pleasant surprise. And with Elle? I _knew_ it was going to be a good day when I rose this morning."

Elle snorted. "It's nice to see you, too, Anna."

"I'll have the servants bring tea out to the garden. I'll meet you both outside," Annalise smiled before going to the kitchen.

The garden was quiet today. In the early afternoon sunlight, it almost seemed like they had traveled to another place, another time. The air was fresh after last night's showers, and Estelle closed her eyes as she breathed in the clean air deeply, letting it fill her lungs. She opened them, hearing the chirping of nearby birds.

"One day, I'll fly away like those birds," she murmured. "They're free to go wherever they want and start lives with whomever they want."

Annalise and William shared a look.

"But, Elle, London is your home," Annalise replied. "You can still find someone here to love you."

"Anna, I won't love them back. My days are blurring together like a Monet and all I long for is the nights discussing ideals with all of our friends. I can't stand waking up in my house with my father making the walls close in faster. London stopped being my home when he left," Estelle sighed.

"Home is a place," Annalise replied.

"No, home is where you feel loved and safe. It's where your words and dreams are valued and encouraged, not destroyed. Home is what I felt with my mother, and when she was gone, with Christian," she replied, looking back at her with sorrow in her eyes.

"Should we tell her?" Annalise asked William.

"Tell me what?" Estelle asked curiously.

"Where he is," William replied.

"Paris, I know," Estelle groaned. "It's a little far from London."

"Estelle, I have his address," William admitted.

"What am I to do, William? Show up at his house and demand that he talk to me? He could have a whole life without me by now. Not to mention, my father would never allow me to just leave," Estelle laughed.

"Maybe not on your own," Annalise said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after the season, it's not odd for members of society to travel," Annalise said, fleshing out her idea more. "What if you and I went on a European holiday? We could track him down along the way."

Estelle felt a bit of dread set in. What if she went all the way there just to find him in the arms of another woman? "What about Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"Who am I to stand in the way of true love, Ms. Devereux?" he grinned. "Besides, I'll still be here when you both get back."

He had said both, but Estelle knew he was talking to Annalise.

"We could also write," Annalise added. "In case Mr. Cavanaugh gets too bored without us."

Estelle looked out at the garden. She might as well not even be here.

"My father would never go for it," Estelle added.

"My father would pay for the both of us if I ask nicely. Besides, he owes me. I saw him out at the opera with his mistress and didn't tell my mother," she winked.

Estelle chuckled. "Alright. I'll ask him when I get home."

The rest of their time together was spent discussing the latest fashions across Europe as Annalise was extensively planning her wardrobe for the trip. When Estelle finally made it home, it was almost time for dinner.

"Estelle," her father called out to her from the library.

She took a deep breath and went to face him. "Yes?"

"About this morning," he said.

"I'm sorry, father. I should never have spoken to you like that," she replied, looking down.

"Are you really so unhappy here?" he asked.

"I just feel like I need a break from London after the season," she said, picking her words carefully. "I have done nothing but try to secure a husband the past few months. It takes a toll after a while."

Her father nodded. "I suppose it does."

Estelle came to sit on the floor next to his chair. "Father, Annalise would like to take me on a tour of Europe. Her father said he would pay for the two of us. I would very much like to go."

"Perhaps a change of scenery would do you some good," he sighed. "I'll allow it, on one condition."

"What is it?"

"You try to make some matches while abroad. Perhaps there are people outside of London who are of good social standing that may suit you," he said reluctantly.

"I'm sure I'll be able to find someone," she grinned. "After all, Europe is quite large."

Her father cracked a small smile. "Yes, well, we will discuss more of the finer details later this week. Go get ready for dinner."

Estelle squeezed his hand as she got up. "Thank you, father."

"You're welcome, Estelle."

She practically raced up the stairs in her joy.


	10. All You Need Is Love

As the days drew on, Estelle spent more and more time with Poppy, learning the ways of the courtesan. At first, Poppy was hesitant to teach her any more than just suggestive speaking, but Estelle was her friend and she didn't want her to lose the man she loved to someone because they had more experience with certain _things_ than she did. Watching Estelle's confidence grow as they went on was perhaps what Poppy was most proud of, not that Estelle had ever been timid, but that she finally understood her full worth on her own and knew how to carry herself in a way that showed that. Their goodbye the night before Estelle left for Paris had been tearful, but Estelle had promised to write and tell her all about the Moulin Rouge and how Poppy was so much better than any of the women there. The next morning, however, saying goodbye to Mary had proved to be a bit harder than Estelle had anticipated.

"I can't believe you're leaving to travel for _months_ ," Mary had pouted as she sat on Estelle's bed while she finished some last-minute packing.

"You know precisely where I'm going and why I'm going there," Estelle replied.

"Yes, but, what are you going to do once you find him? What if he's with someone else? Oh, Elle, I don't want your heart to get broken and for you not to have your sister there to pick up the pieces," Mary sighed.

"I'll be fine. I may not have the best sister in the world with me, but I'll have Annalise," Estelle chuckled.

"What will you do if you stay in Paris?" Mary asked softly. "With him?"

"Annalise and I already have a plan worked out should I decide to stay," she replied.

"You'll have to let me know. I know father cannot know, but I wish to know should you stay there," Mary pleaded.

"Alright. If I stay... I'll write something cryptic in your letter. Something that you would know, but father would not should he read it," Estelle said thoughtfully.

"What would you say?"

"Something poetic and meaningful," she murmured. "I've got it! If I stay, I'll tell you: ' _The lights in the city are so bright that they light up the night, vanquishing the dark._ '"

Mary chuckled. "It's certainly poetic."

Estelle had a small wistful smile on her face as she sat on the bed next to her sister, "It certainly would be true."

"I'll miss you," Mary sighed, resting her head on her older sister's shoulder.

"And I'll miss you. If it weren't for you, this house would be unbearable," she admitted, wrapping an arm around Mary's shoulder.

A knock sounded at the door and their butler looked in. "Miss, the carriage has arrived."

"Thank you," Estelle smiled, picking up the last of her luggage to head downstairs. She paused next to the butler for a moment, "Take care of them for me while I'm gone, please."

"Of course, Miss. Like my life depends on it," the butler said with an affectionate nod.

Estelle made her way down the stairs to place her final bags in the foyer for the carriage boy to load. Then, she hesitantly made her way over to the cracked door to the library. She heard the muffled voice of her father talking, and when she peaked in, she saw that it was to the painting of her mother.

"Keep her safe, Maggie," he murmured.

Estelle had a sad smile on her face as she knocked on the door. Her father immediately straightened.

"Come in," he stated.

Estelle walked into the room. "The carriage is here, father. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"Yes, well," he said, turning to look at her where she stood a few steps in the room. His eyes scanned his daughter in her dark blue traveling dress with a black jacket and a matching hat and parasol. She looked so much like her mother did at her age that if he didn't know any better, he would think that he had traveled back in time. "You will write, won't you?"

"Of course, Father," Estelle smiled. "I would be a fool not to keep my family apprised of my adventures."

"I'm sure your sister would be disappointed if you didn't. She does live vicariously through you," he mused.

Estelle was taken aback by his demeanor. For a moment, he seemed like his old self again. He didn't look at her with sorrow, but he was looking at her with regret.

"Father, are you well?" she ventured.

"Of course, child. I am just pensive this morning," he replied.

"Father, you needn't worry about me. I'll have Annalise. We'll be perfectly fine," she reassured him.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that, Estelle," he said with a small smile. It was true, he wasn't worried about her traveling. Deep down, he was worried that she'd never return home after seeing the world, having found somewhere special and then finding London lacking in comparison. "Now, your carriage has arrived, has it not? You should go. You don't want to miss your ship."

Estelle hesitated for a moment, deciding on what to do. However, sentiment won in her mind and she went and hugged her father. "Goodbye."

After a moment, he rested his hand on her back. "Do not cause any scandal."

Estelle shook her head as she pulled back. Her father gave her one last nod of acknowledgement and she left.

The trip to Paris had been fairly uneventful, with the exception of Annalise suffering from motion sickness on the boat. The rocking of the waves lulled Estelle to sleep in comparison, but only until Annalise found herself feeling sick once more and needed someone to hold her hair. Their first day in Paris had been slow. Annalise had to meet with some of her father's friends as they owned the flat that her father had rented out for them for the week. Estelle played along, truly grateful, but she was chomping at the bit to get out and into Montmartre to the address that William had given her. She wanted to know what kind of place Christian had been living in. She wanted to see the people he interacted with, but most of all, she wanted to see _him_. She needed to know that he was okay, although somewhere in a place inside her that she kept hidden, she selfishly wanted to know if he missed her as much as she missed him.

After their obligatory lunch date, Estelle gave Annalise a pleading look.

"Fine. I'll handle tea with Father's former mistress myself. I always did like Cecile best. She at least had the decency to give me a gift whenever she saw me," Annalise said, rolling her eyes.

"Anna, you're the best," Estelle grinned.

"I know," Annalise winked. "Now, get out of here."

Estelle did just that, making her way out into the street. She found a carriage, giving them the address and soon enough she found herself outside of a slightly shabby building.

"He's living here?" she murmured to herself. Hastily, she made her way into the building, going up to the apartment indicated on the address. She knocked on the door multiple times, but heard no response.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but, are you looking for someone?" a short man asked as he and another, taller, man came down the stairs.

"My friend," she replied, turning to look at him. "According to the address on this letter, he lives here."

The smaller man's eyes widened as he elbowed the other man in the thigh, but the other man had fallen asleep on his feet.

"Is everything alright?"

"I do apologize, but are you Mademoiselle Devereux from London?" the short man asked.

"I am... I beg your pardon, but have we met?" Estelle asked in confusion.

"Non! My name is Toulouse. I am a friend of your friend. You're just... precisely how he described," Toulouse murmured.

"You know Christian?" she asked excitedly. "Would you know where I might find him?"

"He's at the Moulin Rouge rehearsing," Toulouse replied, "We are going there now. Would you like to accompany us?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," she smiled, but then she looked at the taller man, "Although, I do believe he is asleep."

Toulouse sighed. "That's Santiago. He does that."

Estelle nodded, following them to a magnificent building with a windmill atop it. Her eyes widened in awe.

"It is quite a sight the first time," Toulouse smiled.

"It is," she murmured.

Inside however, was not an amazing sight. As Toulouse and Santiago went forward into the rehearsal space, she stayed a few paces behind, watching them from behind a pillar. Her eyes softened as she spotted Christian laughing, but then she noticed the other woman sitting in his lap. She was beautiful, with red hair and bright red lips. Her outfit had significantly fewer layers than Estelle's. Estelle felt her heart drop. Had she been replaced? She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to leave. She pushed her way back through the double doors and into the courtyard for air. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Perhaps she should never have come. Perhaps she should have just-

"Ellie?" a voice called out.

Estelle looked up, locking eyes with him.

"Christian," she said softly.

They stood in silence gazing at each other for a moment as if neither believed that the other was truly standing before them. The world had slowed, letting them hear their heartbeats in their ears until it sped back up again and they were rushing into each other's arms to hold each other tight.

"I don't understand," Christian said, pulling back, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on holiday with Annalise," she replied. She didn't want to tell him that she had come here for him, not when he was clearly with another woman.

"How long are you here for?" he asked softly.

"A few days," she replied.

"Come, let me introduce you to everyone," Christian grinned, taking her by the hand and leading her back into the building.

"A-are you sure?" Estelle stammered.

"Of course. It'll be nice for them to put a face to the name."

Estelle blushed. _A face to the name_. He talked about her?

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Ms. Devereux. She's my friend from London," he grinned.

The red-haired woman's eyes alighted at this new information. "So _you_ are the infamous Ellie."

"I wouldn't say infamous..." Estelle trailed off. She couldn't tell if the woman was kind, or if there was a hint of jealousy in her eyes, but the air between the two of them and Christian felt charged. Estelle was worried that she had disrupted something by being here.

Christian introduced everyone to Estelle and she learned the woman's name was Satine. Then, they had to get back to rehearsal.

"Christian, have you finished that scene yet?" Satine asked.

"No. I'm still working on the seduction scene," he sighed.

"Perhaps I can _help_ you after," Satine winked.

"T-that's quite alright," Christian stammered.

Estelle looked away. "I should head back."

"Let me walk you out!" Christian replied.

The walk out of the building was silent, but once they were outside, he sighed.

"She's just a friend," he said.

"It's alright. After all, I'm just a friend, too," Estelle said with a sad smile.

Christian ached to correct her, but this wasn't the time, nor the place. "When can I see you again?"

"Annalise and I have things planned the next two days. Then, we have a fairly open day in case anything of interest came to our attention. The following day we leave," she explained.

"Then... I should like to take you out on that day. There's a lovely café that I think you'd enjoy," he smiled.

"Alright," she replied. She gave him the address of her flat and sighed. "I'm glad to see you doing well."

"And I am glad to see _you_ ," he said pointedly, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "I'll see you soon."

Estelle nodded and got into her carriage to return to the flat.

When she got back, she found Annalise waiting for her with a piping hot pot of tea.

"Well?"

"He's at the _Moulin Rouge_ , writing a play. I think... I think he might have found someone," she said with some difficulty.

"Nonsense. If she's from the _Moulin_ than he's either paying her, or she's scamming him," Annalise said dismissively.

"You didn't see the way they were," Estelle sighed. "There's definitely more to it than that."

"Are you going to see him again?" Annalise asked.

"On our open day," she replied.

"Good. Well, we have dinner reservations. You may wish to get changed," Annalise sighed.

Estelle nodded and went about it, but her mind was still on Christian.

In fact, her mind didn't leave Christian the next few days. The more she thought about him, the more she wondered if she would actually be able to leave him again. However, then she thought of Satine and figured that he may be just fine if she did.

When the day finally arrived to see him again, she was a bundle of nerves. Questions swirled in her head about whether she had been foolish to think that they would be reunited and pick up where they left off in London or if she had been right and he did miss her. As they walked in silence with her hand on his arm, she felt as though she were suffocating in the confines of her own mind, and oh how dark a place it had become there. She didn't think that even the city of lights could illuminate her darkness.

"Darling, you've been awfully quiet," Christian murmured as they sat at the table in the café.

"I just have a lot on my mind," she replied with a small smile. "But, enough about me. How have you been?"

Christian gave her a look of concern, "Well, I've found some friends who are very supportive of my work. They're not at all like the fuddy duddies of London society that we had to interact with for the season. I've been working on something new. You saw some of the play rehearsal, actually, but I've honestly been stuck."

" _Stuck_?" Estelle asked, leaning forward. "That's not like you at all. Back in London you seemed to go on about anything that interested you without trouble."

"I know. I'm writing this play about a penniless sitar player who falls in love with someone well above his station, but I'm having some difficulties with it," he sighed.

" _You're having a hard time writing about love?_ " she asked incredulously.

"I know. It's hard, though, especially when my muse has been in London," he said softly.

She blushed. "I'm sure there's some courtesans who would know more about seduction that I will ever know."

"There's a difference between just seducing a woman's body and seducing a heart. You've always been good at both, if I may be so bold," he blushed.

"Then, I shall help. After all, what kind of muse would I be if I didn't?" Estelle replied with a wink. Her fears about Satine drifted away. She felt like they were back in London again.

"I would love that."

"Well, would it be instant attraction?" she asked in amusement.

"Yes, darling, I suppose it would," he smiled. "Although he has followed her career for quite some time, but when he first lays eyes on her... oh, the world stops."

"But, she's a courtesan, and he's a penniless sitar player. I think he would have to seduce her a bit in order to have her even look at him twice," she replied with a small smirk as she took a sip of tea.

"S-seduce her how?" he asked. His tea cup trembled slightly as he put it on the saucer.

"You're the writer, _you_ tell _me_ ," she replied, crossing her legs, a trick she had learned from Poppy. Her skirts slipped up a bit and exposed her ankles, causing him to blush harder. She knew he'd been spending a lot of time at the _Moulin Rouge_ , and she could see the appeal, after all, he _was_ a man. However, the fact that her childhood friend was still flustered showed that he really hadn't changed much since she last saw him in London all those months ago.

His eyes traced over Estelle's face as if trying to decipher her. She'd grown since she'd last seen him at the start of the season in London. Back then, he'd been just as much of a dreamer as he was now. However, that was one of the things she loved most about him. He _was_ a dreamer. He didn't see life just as it was, but how it could be. Talking to him made her want to believe that anything was possible… that she could find a match that was made in love as well as good standing. When he left, it was like there was a void in the London scene, and in her heart that she could never fill. Sure she'd had marriage proposals, but they weren't from the man she'd wanted the most. In this moment, watching him study her, she realized that she wasn't content to just let him slip away again, not when talking to him made her feel so free. Part of her, though, was still upset with the way he'd left things. It was apparent in her eyes. The passion within them burned, keeping him in place with the heat of her gaze as she challenged him to acknowledge it and the hurt that he'd caused by leaving.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. "You're mad at me."

Estelle blushed and looked down. "Nonsense. Why would I be mad? I'm not your keeper."

"I should have said goodbye," he sighed. "I owed you that much. I owe you so much more. That night, my father and I had a fight and I just left. I didn't think anyone would care that the hopeless dreamer had left. I'd been there for multiple seasons at that point, and everyone's father was telling them to steer clear of me."

"I cared," she said quietly before taking another sip of tea.

"You were the only one that ever did," he said with a small smile. "Which was why I couldn't say goodbye. If I had, I would never have been able to leave."

"You hurt me," she admitted. "I worried that it was something that I'd done."

"No," he said emphatically, taking her hand in his. "Ellie, you were the one good thing about London."

"One person isn't enough of a reason to stay in a place where you are ultimately unhappy," she said with a sigh.

"Not if you love that person. Love is a many splendored thing," he smiled. "Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love."

Estelle chanced a look around the small Parisian café that he had chosen to meet in. It was more colorful than the one's they had frequented back in London, but somehow seeing him here… this felt correct. In a way, she'd always felt like he was out of place in London when compared to everyone else. The colors back then were muted and his personality shone like the sun in comparison. But here? Here she felt like he belonged. He still stood out, as only someone like him could, but he also was a fixture, a focal point in a painting. The eye was drawn to it, but it wasn't out of place. Love may lift one up where they belong, but she loved him enough to want him to be in a place where he already felt at home.

"Annalise will be looking for me soon," she replied with a sigh, gathering up her parasol and purse.

"Will I see you again?" he asked hopefully.

Estelle paused to take him in. "Would you want to? I thought you wanted to cut ties with all the… oh, what _did_ you call them… ' _fuddy duddies_ ' of London society?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Darling, I could never call you that. You were always so much more than our peers," he replied, getting up to walk her back to the flat.

"I'd love to see you again," she smiled as they made their way through town, parasol shielding her from the sun. It felt just like old times, and she was not about to let him walk out of her life again. She chewed her lip in thought, choosing her words carefully. She felt like Christian had missed her, but she couldn't help but worry that she may be wrong. "Perhaps I could convince my companion to continue on without me on our holiday. I've found Paris to be a bit too lovely to leave."

"You'd stay?" he asked in amazement as they came to a stop outside her building. "But, how would you pay for your flat?"

She turned to him with a small smile, "I was hoping that perhaps I could stay with a friend?"

He flushed at the suggestion. If she were anywhere else, with anyone else, they'd remind her immediately that that wasn't proper. Estelle could even see it in his eyes that he was warring with himself on whether or not to say it now, but to do so would be to say he still cared about the rules he'd left behind in London.

"Are you sure you'd want to stay with a _friend_ in Paris when your best friend is traveling on?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course. I'm sure I could help my _friend_ with his writing," she winked.

He was speechless, something that she'd seen rarely. It made her heart ache. Surely her affections weren't one-sided. No, this was the right choice. She knew it in her heart.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said softly, taking her gloved hand in his and placing a quick kiss across her knuckles.

"Good night, Christian," she replied with a slight blush as she entered the building, leaving him on the front step. Estelle picked up her skirts and made it up the stairs to covertly watch him from the window that overlooked the street. She stifled a chuckle as she watched him stand on the steps dumbstruck for a moment before breaking out in a smile. He turned to walk down the street, jumping and clicking his heels together mid-air happily before continuing on his way.

"How'd it go?" asked a voice from the next room over.

She walked in to find Annalise in her corset and changing into her dinner attire.

"It went well, but I have to talk to you about something," Estelle sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Annalise had a small smile on her face as she pinned up her golden hair. "You want to stay."

"How did you-"

"You're my best friend. I know he's the reason you turned down everyone else, and I know he's the reason you would never be happy with anyone else," she replied, looking at Estelle in the mirror. She placed her hands in her lap as she turned to face her friend. "How am I going to cover for you?"

Estelle smiled. Annalise was a schemer. "Well, I figured I could send you the letters for you to send to my family. That way, they'll think I'm with you."

She nodded, "Alright. That's one problem taken care of. Now, how will you pay for the flat? It'll be expensive on top of anything else you might need."

Instinctively, her nose scrunched up as she prepared to break the news to her. "I'll stay with Christian."

"I cannot allow my best friend to stay in some _hovel_ ," she sighed.

"It won't _be_ a hovel," Estelle replied, "If Christian is there, then it's home."

She chuckled and shook her head at Estelle. "The two of you are a match made in heaven, that's for sure."

"Does that mean you'll go along with it?"

"If this is what you truly want. Just… include a letter to me along with your reports to your parents so that I may keep track of you," she replied, coming over to take Estelle's hands in hers. "And, if he even _dares_ to break your heart again… I will break him."

With a chuckle, Estelle patted her hand on top of her's. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Annalise. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"That's true," she winked, getting up to finish getting dressed. "Now, get changed. We have a standing reservation for dinner and then we're going to the opera."

With a happy sigh, Estelle pushed up off the bed and went to her room to get dressed. She was determined to make the most of her last night with her friend, but she was also excited to see what tomorrow would bring. Part of her felt like a Bohemian, turning away from everything she knew and living unchaperoned with a man. She wasn't as innocent as she once was, thanks to Poppy, but few people knew that Estelle knew about those kinds of things. Poppy had taught her many things about men, and she wondered how Christian would react to them. Then again, considering his current company, he may not even be shocked.

The rest of the night was spent with Annalise on the town. When they came back to the flat and were going to go their separate ways, Annalise stopped her.

"Stay with me tonight? Like when we were girls," she smiled.

"Just let me get changed," Estelle replied, disappearing into her room.

She emerged a bit later in her nightgown with her hair flowing around her shoulders.

The two of them laid next to each other, staring up at the canopy of the bed.

"Are you nervous?" Annalise asked, looking at Estelle out of the corner of her eyes.

She let out a sigh at her question. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

"About living with Christian?" she asked.

After a beat of thinking, Estelle answered. "It's not quite that. I trust Christian. I'm more nervous about living with just him to rely on. What if… what if our relationship doesn't grow? Then I'm stuck here."

"You wouldn't be stuck," she reassured, turning to face her friend. "You'd never be stuck. I'd rescue you if you ever needed it."

"I appreciate that," Estelle said with a small smile. "Now, we should sleep. You have a long day of traveling tomorrow."

Annalise yawned in agreement and turned the other way to sleep. However, Estelle stayed up a little bit longer, looking up at the canopy, worrying whether or not this was the right choice. However, in her heart she knew it was. After all, the life here with Christian may not be what she was used to in London, but all she needed was love, and she felt as though Christian could give that to her. With that thought, her worries were gone and sleep claimed her.

The morning was a blur of packing and saying goodbye to Annalise. It wasn't long before Christian showed up after she left.

"Good morning, darling," he beamed as he picked up her luggage and placed it on the carriage she'd rented. He offered Estelle his hand to help her into the buggy, crawling in after she'd settled herself into the seat.

"I must warn you," he started nervously.

"Christian, you're an artist. I'm not expecting the Taj Mahal. A house is only a house. What makes it a home are the people inside," she replied pointedly.

He blushed. "Right. Of course, darling."

The carriage pulled up outside his building and he picked up her things. Not wanting to watch him struggle, she helped him by carrying some of her lighter suitcases. She had told him that she wasn't expecting much, but that still didn't prepare her for the apartment with a massive hole in the ceiling. Vaguely, she remembered his friends telling her they fell into Christian's life on the walk to the Moulin the other day. When she saw those same faces popping through the hole in the ceiling now, she realized they had meant it quite literally.

"Christian! You didn't say you'd be bringing home a woman," Toulouse smiled.

"Hello, Toulouse," Christian said, blushing awkwardly. "You remember my friend, right?"

"Oh, yes. She is hard to forget."

Estelle cleared her throat as she set about unpacking her things into the room.

"Toulouse, if you don't mind, would you talk to the land lord about fixing the hole in your floor? Now that there's a lady here, I'd like to give her some privacy."

"Of course!" Toulouse replied before disappearing back up into his own apartment.

"Sorry about that," Christian said sheepishly.

"No need to apologize. Your friends are sweet," Estelle smiled. Then, she turned to spot the portrait on the wall. "Christian... is that...?"

Christian blushed. "Yes, well, I was missing you terribly and Toulouse painted that for me to cheer me up."

"It's beautiful," she murmured, reaching up to straighten it on the fireplace.

"You are," Christian replied before sitting at his desk to write on his typewriter.

Eventually, she pulled up a chair and sat next to him.

"What scene are you working on?" she asked curiously.

"The one we were discussing the other day in the café."

"Oh, the seduction scene! Well, how _does_ he end up seducing her?"

"I…well… I'm still working that out. That's why we've been going to the _Moulin Rouge_ so much outside of rehearsals, but it hasn't helped inspire me in any way."

Part of her had to be happy at that. She was sure that Satine would have been a great help with this, but since she wasn't, Estelle figured she could implement some of the things she'd learned from Poppy.

"Well… you've always had a way with words. Why not have him make suggestive comments?" she suggested, a small smile toying at her lips.

"Like what?" he asked, turning to her.

She bit her lip, debating on whether or not to push her luck. Gently leaning forward so that her lips were inches from his ear, she whispered, "Well, he could speak softly into her ear."

He stiffened before shivering slightly at her actions. With satisfaction, she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, "A-and, what things would he say?"

"Things like… sometimes at night I dream about what it would be like to have you underneath me as my hands slide up your chest," she murmured in his ear.

"I-is that so?" he stammered, blushing furiously.

Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his thigh. "He touches her thigh, slowly sliding it up as he tells her how much he wishes there weren't any fabric in the way."

His eyes nervously flicked to her's. This was a side to her that he'd never seen before, and quite frankly it scared him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but rather that he wasn't used to it. She was so bold and confident. Her eyes looked like they would devour him on the spot, which made a flicker of a thought flash in the back of his head. Clearly someone would have had to teach her this in order for her to replicate it. Had someone else had her before he could? Yet, he couldn't talk since he hadn't been chaste either. There had been one drunken night that- He banished the thought away as he looked down, seeing himself start to tent in his pants and reluctantly he stayed her hand.

She took his chin in between her thumb and forefinger, turning his head towards her so she could search his eyes. "What is it?"

" _He's_ supposed to be trying to seduce _her_ ," he said quietly, "Because he knows that she's used to being the one working for affections."

"He came from far away to see her for himself," she replied softly. "When his eyes fell on hers, it was love at first sight. He vowed he'd never let her go. He _wants_ her."

His eyes bore into hers. " _She_ wants _him_ , but she doesn't think she has the right to love him after everything she has done."

"Everyone has the right to love," Estelle murmured, sliding closer to him. "He wants to undo her clothes and let them fall to the floor. He knows its a sight others have seen before, but it will be his first time, and that's all that matters to him. Especially since he didn't need to pay for it."

"She showed him willingly," he replied, cupping her face. "Because he saw her soul first."

"He wants to kiss every inch of exposed flesh and worship her," she added, "Nothing is too good for her in his eyes. He wants to use his hands and lips to memorize her skin, to show her how much he cares."

They had gotten so close in their word exchange. Her eyes were wide as they gazed up into his.

"What are some of the things he says?" Christian asked innocently.

"I know you're used to things being rough, but I want this to be loving. I want to kiss every inch of you, leaving little marks where only we'll know where they are, so that when you see them, you'll know you belong to me. I want to show you the stars that hide behind your eyes," she said intently.

Christian's eyes widened, feeling his pants unbearably tight. Estelle was just talking about the play, wasn't she?

"A-anything else?" he asked breathily.

"I want to make love to you until my name falls from your lips over and over again like a nun praying the rosary. Like it's reverent to you and sacred, because _you_ are sacred to me and I'll worship you like the celestial presence on Earth that you are," she continued.

His heart was hammering in his chest. Her words were beautiful, but somehow he knew she wasn't talking about the play. She hadn't been since she sat down. Although, she was wrong about one thing. _He_ was the penniless sitar player, and _she_ was the woman who was out of his depths now, and he had done this to them. He wanted her so badly, his breath hitching in his throat as she opened her mouth to speak again. He knew he couldn't take another round of whatever she was going to say and instead he kissed her. It was a desperate kiss to shut her up, but she kept trying to talk, so he kept swallowing her words with his mouth until Estelle gave up. She slid herself across to sit in his lap, unable to straddle him like she wished due to the restrictions of her skirt. Christian let out a groan as she sat on his lap, reflexively wrapping his arms around her.

Panting for air, Estelle pulled back and rested her forehead against his.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," she gasped as her breaths mingled with his.

"I should never have left you," he replied.

"No, this was the right decision for you," she said pointedly.

"But, I lost this. I could have had this so much sooner," he sighed."We both could have been happy in London. I could have belonged to you and been happy."

"At the cost of the freedom to be who you truly are, Christian. That is true happiness. I could never have allowed you to give up on that. I could never ask that of you. You're a dreamer, and I love that about you. I love that you challenge me to dream of a better life, of a better _world_. I love that you're trying to _create_ that world with your art," she replied frantically.

His eyes snapped up to her's, blue like the sky. "You do?"

" _I do_ , because I believe in it. I believe in all this," she replied, gesturing to the room around her. "Freedom, beauty, truth…" she trailed off to look at him, smoothing her thumb across his cheek as she softly added, " _Love_."

"The greatest of these is love," he replied with a small smile.

"I love you," she replied softly.

"I love you, too, Ellie," he grinned before kissing her softly. "More than anything."

Estelle sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I have to ask, though. What is Satine to you?"

Christian looked down in shame. "In truth, she's just a friend."

Estelle chewed her lip, dreading the answer to her next question, "Have you slept with her?"

"Once. We were working on lines and we were both very drunk," he replied. "It... it didn't go well."

"How did it not go well?" she chuckled.

"Well, I kept calling her 'Ellie'," he admitted.

Estelle sat up straight, "Oh?"

"And what about you? How did you learn all of... _that_?" he asked.

Estelle looked down, "I may have befriended a lady of the night on Grub Street?"

Christian chuckled. "Why?"

"I thought that was the kind of woman you wanted. Especially since you ended up here," she replied like it was obvious.

"Ellie, you're the kind of woman I want. I was just too dumb in London and didn't know how to admit it when I had everything to offer, and now I have nothing to offer but the truth," he said emphatically.

"That's not true," Estelle said softly. "You have love to offer. All I need is love."


	11. How Wonderful Life Is

Estelle spent the next couple of days writing letters to send ahead to Annalise so that they could fool her father. She loved to watch Christian work away at his typewriter while she did this. The way his brow would crinkle as he searched for the right word or the way he scrunched his nose when something didn't sound right made her smile. Oh, how she had missed that face. When he wasn't writing, he was at rehearsal. At first, she had been hesitant to go along with him, due to the stares that she would get from some of the performers, but as she got to know them better she was more comfortable with them. She'd swap stories with them about Poppy and life on Grub Street, and in return, they taught her some romantic phrases in French that always seemed to make Christian blush.

One day, she was pulled aside by the owner of the Moulin while they were rehearsing.

"Mademoiselle, I don't know how to accurately thank you," he murmured.

"Thank me?" she asked in confusion, "Whatever for?"

"I was beginning to lose hope about this production," he explained, "He was having such a hard time writing it that I worried it would never get done. We've revamped the entire building for this. I couldn't afford for it not to happen. But now, since you've shown up, it might actually happen."

Estelle blushed, "Yes, well, you can count on Christian."

"Non, ma petite. I can count on _you_ ," he winked before leaving.

"It's true," a voice said from behind her.

Estelle turned to see another one of the performers, Nini, standing behind her.

"For all her _feminine wiles_ ," Nini said with an eye roll, "Satine couldn't get him to focus. Everyone wants a writer to write them sonnets and go on with all the bullshit about how they love them and can't imagine a world without them, but she just made the mistake of picking a taken writer."

"I can assure you that Christian was not taken," Estelle replied.

"Not with _her_ ," Nini corrected, "He was still taken with you. You should've seen him moping around here like a lost puppy when the novelty wore off and the homesickness came in. He was going on and on about how he never knew it was possible to be homesick for a person. Quite pathetic, if you ask me, but a less realistic woman would call it sweet I suppose."

"I suppose," Estelle said with a small smile.

"Have you seen much of Paris since you got here?" Nini asked, leaning on the balcony next to Estelle.

"Regrettably, no. We've spent so much time up in his apartment working on the play," Estelle replied.

"Is that what you're calling it?" Nini teased.

"Oh, no, we haven't... I-I mean," Estelle started to stammer.

"But you want to," Nini winked.

"It would ruin my reputation," Estelle sighed.

"Honey, if you're hiding here, your reputation is already in question," Nini laughed. "But... Paris is the city of love. Perhaps you should take advantage of that."

"How do you suggest I do that?" she asked.

"Take him to the Eiffel Tower. It's quite beautiful at night. You can see the city in a new way... and maybe he'll see _you_ in a different light, too," Nini said pointedly.

Estelle blushed, "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're sweet, he's sweet, it's a good match," she smiled before dropping her voice and looking down at where Satine was on the stage below, "Besides... it's nice to see her not always get everything she wants."

Estelle followed her gaze before looking over at Christian. _Did Satine want him?_ She cleared the thought from her head. Even if Satine wanted him, she knew she had Christian's heart. Their love had withstood distance, years, and society. It could handle a courtesan. She was pulled from her reverie by a set of arms encircling her from behind.

"Darling, you seem pensive," Christian murmured, kissing her temple. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all, my love," she said, turning a bright smile to him. "Should _I_ be worried?" Estelle nodded her head towards Satine.

"Of course not," Christian said adamantly, turning Estelle to face him completely. "Darling, the only person I want to be with is you. I can feel that in every fibre of my being. Things... things have never been better," he admitted.

"Is that so?" Estelle asked, reaching up to cup his cheek.

Christian leaned into her touch, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. "Ellie... Every day I try my best to put into words how wonderful life is now you're in this world with me here. You're my star."

Estelle blushed and looked down. "Rehearsal is over?"

"For me it is," Christian smiled, sliding his arm around her waist. "Shall we go home?"

"Actually..." Estelle started gently. "I was wondering if we could go see some of the sights? Nini told me about the Eiffel Tower. I would very much like to see it. Well, visit it, really since I've certainly seen it from far away."

"Of course. I think that would be a splendid idea," he replied, offering her his arm to escort her.

When they made their way outside, they procured a carriage to take them across the city. The atmosphere was already different as they found themselves closer and closer to the Seine. While the area around the Moulin Rouge was bustling and loud, this area was peaceful. The lights were still on as they passed by, however it was relatively quieter in comparison. The carriage came to a stop across the street from the towering monument and Christian stepped out of the carriage to help Estelle out.

"It's more imposing in person," Estelle murmured as she looked up at the tower.

"The view from the top must be incredible, though," Christian replied.

Together, they walked the short distance to the lifts, taking them up as far as they could go until they would have to complete the rest of the journey on foot. As they ascended, they were able to see more and more of the city below. Once at the top, the world stretched out around them in every direction like they were a buoy in a sea of lights. The wind whipped at them and Estelle pulled her shawl tighter. What had been warm enough to leave the house in the early months of fall was barely keeping her warm in this moment. Christian came up behind her to shield her from the wind, holding her close against the railing to offer her some of his body heat.

"It's mesmerizing," Estelle said in awe.

"It is," Christian agreed.

"I don't know if I've ever seen a more beautiful sight."

Christian looked down at the woman in his arms and blushed, "I have."

Estelle turned her attention to the sky above them and frowned. "You can't see the stars."

"Sometimes, the light from the city competes with the heavens and you lose the stars," he explained.

"Is it worth the sacrifice?" she asked.

"To vanquish the darkness away, perhaps it would be a fair trade," he replied.

"But at what cost?" she asked. "When you have the natural beauty of the heavens, wouldn't it make sense to want to preserve that? To live amongst the starlight? After all, stars have been used for navigating. Without them, we all could be lost."

"Yet, sometimes the stars can't be seen. If the clouds block out the light from the stars, then you'd live your life in darkness. By having lights, you ensure that you will never be left in the dark again," Christian replied.

"Enlightenment versus the natural order," Estelle smirked.

"Something like that," Christian chuckled, running his hands up and down Estelle's arms. "Ellie, your lips are turning blue. Perhaps we should go."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, allowing him to lead her back down to the lifts and to the ground. The two of them walked along the Seine, not quite ready to go back home. The gentle sound of the rushing water was a calm backdrop as they walked in silence, each in their own thoughts.

"Ellie, I've been thinking about what you were saying about the stars and I've come to a conclusion," Christian said suddenly.

"And what might that be, Mr. Thompson?" she asked in amusement.

"That as much as I enjoy living in the light, I don't want to lose the star that guides me home," he told her, stopping to take her hand.

Estelle's brow furrowed in confusion. "Christian, what are you saying?"

"I want to do what I should have done in London," he said seriously. "I would like to court you."

Estelle blushed in the glow of the streetlights. "Christian, aren't we a little passed that? I do live with you."

"Yes, but, I want to make it official. I want you to know my intentions," he said sincerely. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Darling, I want to marry you someday when we're not lying to your family."

Estelle felt her heart skip a beat. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of the prospect of being your wife."

"Is that a yes?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, Mr. Thompson, I shall allow you to court me," she said with a serious air of formality before breaking out in a grin.

Christian's smile widened and he scooped her up in her arms, playfully spinning her in the air while she laughed. When her feet touched the ground once more, her chest was against his as her hands rested just below his shoulders. Estelle tipped up on her toes to press her lips against his, no longer shy about her affection. Christian's arms tightened around her, crushing her against him as he returned the kiss with fervor. When they broke for air, they wore matching smiles of glee. Nothing could bring them down in this moment.

"Take me home, Christian," she breathed.

"Gladly."


	12. Wrapped in the Warmth of You

As fall turned to winter, the couple in the apartment in Montmartre had no fear of the cold. In fact, in their hearts it was still summer, with the ember of their love keeping them warm as the fire grew day by day. In the back of her mind, Estelle knew Annalise was somewhere in Italy right now, spending the holiday with her Aunt before going on to Germany for the New Year in a few weeks. As she turned over in bed to look at the sleeping man beside her, with his arm draped over her, she wondered what the new year would bring for them. After all, eventually Annalise would return home without her, and their stolen time may come to an end depending on how her father received the news. A sad sigh passed through her lips as she reached out to smooth some hair out of Christian's face. _Borrowed time,_ she thought with a frown. The thought of having to go back cast a shadow on her heart. Never had she felt more at home, or more complete than when she was with Christian. Would it be so wrong to stay here? Christian had told her to wait to find her true love, and she had. She had waited, and she had found him, and here she was wrapped in the warmth of him. Here she felt at peace. She felt safe, even if they didn't have all the financial security her father wanted for her. She loved him, and that's all that mattered to her. Gently, she kissed his cheek, vowing to love him until the seas run dry, no matter what.

Slowly, his eyes started to flutter open and a slow smirk crossed his face.

"Good morning, darling," he said, gently running the back of his fingers along her cheek. "I trust you slept well?"

"With you by my side, always," she smiled softly. "What are the plans for the day?"

"Well, the show is taking a break until after Christmas. Something about 'with more families in town, business increases and we don't have time to waste on a play when we could be playing into men with poor family relations.'"

"I see," Estelle nodded sagely.

"I'm glad you do," he chuckled, "Care to explain it to me?"

"Essentially, men come to visit their family for Christmas. However, sometimes there is tension, either because of money or differing political views usually, which causes frustrated men to leave the estate and look for comfort in the arms of young, _understanding_ woman," she said matter-of-factly.

"Ah, so people like me should I have gone home for Christmas," he sighed.

"Precisely," she murmured, stroking her thumb across his cheek.

"I do miss him sometimes," he admitted.

"Of course you do," she smiled, "He's your father. Regardless of how you left, there were good moments among the chaos. It's natural to miss your family at this time of year."

"Do you miss yours?" he asked softly. "If you wanted to go back, you could. I won't keep you here if it makes you unhappy."

"I do miss my sister," she sighed, "But, I wouldn't have been spending the holiday with Father and Mary even if I wasn't here. Annalise and I would have been in Italy with her Aunt, probably being dragged to the Vatican for Christmas Mass. She's quite religious."

"You don't know Italian or Latin very well if I remember correctly," Christian smirked, remembering how hard it was for her to pick up when they were children.

"There's a reason that one of them is dead, and the other just sounds like someone imitating Spanish poorly," she said defensively, "Regardless, I am certainly not heartbroken over the current arrangement. I love you. Christmas is about spending time with your loved ones."

"Well, I'm glad you're happy," he said, kissing her forehead.

"When I'm with you, I always am," she replied, giving him a small kiss before sliding out of bed. She shivered as her feet hit the cold wood. Then, she picked up her robe from a nearby chair, tying it around herself before putting a log on the fire to warm the apartment.

"You never answered my question about what we should do today," she said, looking at him over her shoulder as she stoked the fire.

Christian propped himself up on his elbow, causing the sheet to slide down his bare torso. Estelle looked away with a blush.

"We could go into town for some Christmas shopping," he replied.

"Can we _afford_ to go Christmas shopping?" she countered.

"If we keep things simple, then, yes," he replied.

"So, we should set rules, then," she said thoughtfully, "Such as, one gift per person."

"That seems fair," Christian smiled. "Where should we go?"

"The girls told me about these things called department stores, where you can purchase all sorts of goods in one place," Estelle said, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Perhaps we could go to one of those?"

"I've heard about those from Toulouse. I remember him saying that _Le Bon Marché_ is usually where he goes when he needs something since they have set prices. They also don't turn anyone away," Christian replied.

"We should go there, then," she smiled, going over to get ready for the day.

The two of them went through their morning routines and soon enough they were getting out of the carriage in front of _Le Bon Marché_. Estelle looked up at the large building in awe.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to the architecture in Paris," she murmured.

"Whatever they do, they do it with love," Christian smiled as the two of them stepped inside and out of the softly falling snow. He pointed at the clock on the wall. "We'll meet in the lobby in two hours?"

"If I can get through all this in two hours," she chuckled, feeling overwhelmed by all the visual stimulation.

He kissed her cheek, "If you're not here, I'll come find you. Always."

"Alright," she smiled, wandering off into the store.

Christian watched her leave for a moment before pulling a note out of his pocket. It was a piece of correspondence from his friend, William Cavanaugh. After a moment of skimming it's contents for what must have been the thousandth time since it's arrival earlier this month, he stopped one of the workers.

"Excuse me, but could you point me in the direction of the women's jewelry department?" Christian asked.

"Of course, Monsieur. Follow me," the boy smiled, leading him through the labyrinthine palace to his destination.

It was surprisingly quiet in this department, despite being so close to the holiday, which benefitted Christian since he was seen right away by the jeweler.

"May I help you?" the man asked behind a thick, bushy mustache.

"I'm looking for a moonstone," Christian grinned.

The man nodded and led him over.

Meanwhile, Estelle found herself getting lost in the twists and turns of the aisles. She went up a floor, hoping to see something that would catch her attention, or at least something that could orient her, but alas, to no avail.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but are you lost?" a woman in an apron, presumably a worker, asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Estelle asked with a chuckle.

"Is it your first time at _Le Bon Marché_?" the woman asked.

"Yes. I'm looking for a Christmas present for someone dear to me, but I have no idea where anything is," she explained.

"Well, let me help you. What is it that you are looking for?"

Estelle bit her lip, thinking back on the idea she had come up with the other week, "A pocket watch. One that I can have engraved."

"That would be in the men's accessory department. Let me take you there. My name is Denise," the woman smiled.

Estelle followed her through the store, trying to determine a method to the madness, but came up empty. However, Denise was true to her word and brought her to the display of pocket watches. Estelle slowly strolled by the display, inspecting the watches when one caught her eye.

"Oh, this is perfect," she murmured. Carefully, she picked it up and went over to the man behind the counter. "Monsieur, is there a way I can have this timepiece engraved?"

"It will cost you extra," the man said, inspecting the watch.

"That's perfectly fine," Estelle smiled, "I'm willing to pay."

The man pulled out the paperwork and handed her a pen, "If you could write what you wish to be engraved here, please. That way, if there are any errors, they are not from me."

Estelle wrote her message and passed the paper back to the man. He looked down and raised a brow.

"With the symbol, Mademoiselle?"

"With the symbol, Monsieur," she winked.

He nodded and went with the watch in the back. Estelle waited in a nearby seat for... well, she didn't quite know how long since the man had the watch, but eventually he returned with it.

"Is this to your satisfaction?"

Estelle took it from him and inspected it, "It's splendid. Your work is admirable."

"Thank you," the man blushed, ringing her up for the watch. She paid him and took her small bag with her back towards where she thought the lobby was. She ended up getting turned around and asking someone else for help, but she made it back to Christian.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked him.

"I did. And you?"

"I'm pleased with my purchase," she winked as they stepped out into the snowstorm.

The carriage ride home was uneventful, but they came home to a slight misfortune.

"There's no electricity," Christian sighed, when none of the lights were working.

"Thank goodness we have candles," Estelle replied, rooting through their trunk for them. She lit them, strategically placing them around the space as Christian relit the fire in the hearth.

"At least we have warmth," Estelle added, placing her snow-wet coat on a chair to dry.

"Speaking of warmth," Christian replied, "You are soaked from snow. You should take a bath to warm up."

"We both should," she corrected, going to run the water.

"I'll take mine after you take yours," he winked.

While she was in the bath, Christian set about boiling water for tea and making a soup with what little they had in their apartment for them to eat. By the time Estelle was out of the bath, the tea was finished, and by the time Christian was done with his bath, their dinner was ready to eat.

They ate on the floor in front of the fire, sitting on a blanket with a loaf of bread in between them that they would periodically rip a piece off of to dip into their soup.

Christian sighed, looking down at his soup, taking in their predicament.

"What is it?" Estelle asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

"If you're sighing like that, then it isn't nothing. I know you," she said, playfully prodding him with her sock covered foot.

"I just... feel guilty for forcing you to live a life like this," he admitted.

"Christian, you haven't forced me to do anything," she said adamantly, placing her bowl down on the floor. She crawled over to him and placed his bowl on the ground, tipping his face up to her's. "Look at me," she murmured. "I am happy here."

"You deserve so much more," he sighed.

"All I want is you," she said seriously, cupping both sides of his face. "I love you. I told you, all I need is you."

Christian leaned into her touch, "I love you, too."

Estelle leaned over to hug him, accidentally toppling them both to the floor, with her on top. They chuckled, looking at each other until their gazes fell to each other's lips. Slowly, they drew closer until their lips were pressed together. His hands sunk into her hair, pulling it out of the low bun she had pinned after her bath. In a swift motion, he rolled her under him, kissing her with fervor. Her senses were flooded with him as they kissed and his body heat enveloped her. As they broke apart to catch their breath, Christian pulled Estelle against his chest, spooning her into him on the blanket. A smile crossed her face as she stared into the fire, flames dancing in her eyes. Never before had she felt such completeness, such perfection, as being in his arms like this. She felt like her heart might burst.


	13. Come What May

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Christian spent his time practicing his proposal with Toulouse.

 _"Mon am_ i, knowing you, you will practice this speech a thousand times, but when you go to say it to her, you'll end up improvising," Toulouse teased.

"Toulouse, this is serious business. I can't propose to the most wonderful woman in the world and not have it be as wonderful as she deserves," he said adamantly.

"You are proposing out of love, no?" Toulouse asked.

"Well, yes, of course. That's the only reason I would ever propose," he replied.

"Then it is already wonderful," Toulouse winked. "Now, get out of here. I have someone coming over."

Christian shook his head and went downstairs to his own apartment, knocking first. "Is it safe to come in?"

"If you're asking if I've finished wrapping your gift yet, then yes," Estelle chuckled.

Christian grinned and walked in, admiring the brightly wrapped box sitting above the fireplace. "What do you wish to do today?"

"I have to run a few errands in town. Annalise usually sends me a telegram today, so I wish to go pick it up from the office before they close for the holiday. I shouldn't be long, though," she replied, tugging on her coat. Gently, she tipped up to kiss his cheek.

"Are you sure you'll be warm enough in that?" Christian asked before picking up a scrap of fabric and wrapping it around her neck. "Here, take my scarf."

"Thank you, Love. I'll be back soon," she blushed, heading out into the cold December morning.

The walk to the telegraph office wasn't a far one, but she liked to take her time and appreciate Paris coated in gently falling snow. At least, until that snow turned to brown slush from the heavy foot traffic in Montmartre. Upon reaching the office, the telegraph operator who had come to know her quite well over the past few months grimaced as he handed her the telegram.

"I don't enjoy that look, Louis," she teased.

"Mademoiselle, if you read your letter from your friend, you would understand why," he sighed.

Estelle tilted her head at him, and then opened the letter. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Her father was here in Paris with Mary, looking for her. Annalise had included the hotel they were staying at. The jig was up.

"Merry Christmas, Mademoiselle Devereux," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas, Louis," Estelle replied, all mirth gone. She walked back out into the cold before catching a carriage to the hotel. Although holidays were usually spent with one's family, this was one reunion that Estelle was not looking forward to.

The driver helped her out of the carriage, and she stared up at the hotel with dread. Taking a deep breath and letting the air chill her lungs, she steeled herself to walk right up to the front desk and ask for their room number.

"Well, I knew this would catch up with me sooner or later," she sighed as she knocked on their hotel room door.

In a moment, the door was thrown open by her sister who quickly pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, sister. I tried to convince him not to come, but you know how he is when he's in a mood," she quickly whispered.

Estelle swallowed and stepped into the room, spying her father staring out the window with his back towards her. "Merry Christmas, Father."

"Father?" he asked. "Is that what you call the man who raised you to know better? The man who's trust you betrayed?" He turned to look at her. "What were you thinking?"

"I enjoyed Paris too much to leave," she murmured.

"Do you know what it's like to hear about how your daughter is running around in another country, living with a man that she isn't even married to? The scandal, Estelle! You have brought shame upon our name," her father seethed.

"No one else knew except for Annalise and William," she said adamantly.

"No one else but them and the whores of Paris," her father shot back. "You've made me look like a fool!"

"You were never supposed to find out like this," she admitted.

"How was I supposed to find out?" her father yelled, "When you came back married and pregnant with some foolish blowhard for a husband?"

"He's not like that!" she cried.

"No, he's just a society reject that doesn't know how to accept the way things are," her father shook his head. "You're coming home immediately, and you will marry whomever I choose."

"All my things are at the apartment," Estelle replied.

"Mary will fetch them," her father said with a curt nod to his youngest daughter. "I do not trust you to leave my sight again." Her father turned on his heel and went into the room he had rented for himself.

Mary gave Estelle a sympathetic look, "Elle, I'm so sorry."

Estelle's knees gave out as she started to sob, landing her helplessly on the carpet. "Is it so wrong to want to be happy?"

Mary pulled her older sister into her, smoothing her hand over Estelle's curls as she rocked her back and forth. "No, it isn't wrong," Mary murmured.

"How did he even find out?" Estelle sniffled.

"He sent a possible match to Annalise's for the holidays, hoping to spark a relationship. When Mr. Danvers arrived and you were not there, he telegrammed father to ask if he was playing a joke. Father then wrote to Annalise's Aunt who pressed her for the truth. We took the first boat out once he knew where you were," she sighed.

Estelle stood up on shaking legs and made her way to her father's room, walking in and shutting the door. "Why do you care about who I marry if I'm happy?"

Her father looked at her and sighed. "If I tell you the truth, will you come back without issue?"

Estelle looked down, "Perhaps."

"Come, sit," her father murmured, gesturing to the chair across from him. Hesitantly, Estelle settled in the chair, waiting for him to speak.

"We had to sell the country house," her father started.

"Because it didn't make sense to keep a house we didn't use," Estelle replied.

"No," her father sighed. "We had to sell it to help pay for your mother's medical bills. When the profits from the sale were not enough, I had to sell stock in the shop as collateral. Then, when your mother passed, her funeral cost us even more. I tried my best to keep us afloat, but we are barely able to maintain the lifestyle we are living."

Estelle looked down, "So you are using your eldest daughter as a way to broker a deal to keep you afloat."

"Estelle, this is not just about you. Think about Mary. Should we lose standing, she may never see a London Season. She may never find a suitable match, otherwise," her father replied.

"I see," she replied, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. "This man that you sent to Italy, that is who you wish for me to marry?"

"Mr. Danvers is a good man. He is heir to a Duchy in Carlisle," her father explained. "He may not be Mr. Thompson, but you would be comfortable financially."

 _Comfortable_. Oh, how she _hated_ that word. She nodded, getting up and leaving her father, staring miserably after her.

"So, I am to marry Mr. Danvers, then," Estelle informed her sister, swiping her eyes.

"I suppose so," Mary replied.

"When you go to fetch my things, would you give Christian a note from me?" she asked softly.

"Of course," her sister smiled sympathetically, taking her to the room they would be sharing.

Estelle settled into the desk and began to write. She started with an apology, an apology for not being able to be there to tell him this in person, an apology for undoubtedly breaking his heart just as her heart was currently breaking. She begged him to forgive her, and to understand that marrying Mr. Danvers was something she needed to do for her family. Then, she ended by wishing him a Merry Christmas, and telling him that the last few months that they spent on borrowed time were the best of her life. When she finished, she delicately folded the note, wrote the address on it, and handed it to Mary. She held her lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling. Wordlessly, her sister nodded, taking the note and going out into the December cold.

When a knock sounded at the door, Christian went to open it with a tilted grin, "You were gone a while, I was beginning to worry."

Then, his smile dropped from his face when he saw who was on the other side, "Mary? I don't... I don't understand."

Mary swallowed, handing him the note. "I'm here for her things," she murmured, gently squeezing his arm before walking into the apartment to begin packing her sister's belongings.

Christian stood dumbfounded as he watched her put away every trace of Estelle into her suitcases. "I don't understand. Why isn't she here? Why are you taking her things?"

"Read the note," Mary sighed, catching a glimpse of the portrait of her sister above the mantle.

He moved over to the seat by the fire, needing warmth to keep him from shivering as a cold fear set in. Gently, he unfolded the note, feeling a pit form in his stomach as he recognized her handwriting. He sat in silence, reading her words over and over again, not noticing that Mary had finished packing.

"Christian, I need you to understand that none of this has to do with what she feels about you," Mary stated. "My sister loves you, and I sincerely believe that she always will."

Christian looked up at her with unshed tears in his eyes, letting the note fall from his hand to the floor, "We were courting each other. Did she tell you that?" He came over to hold her arms as he started to sob, "Mary, I _love_ her. I was going to propose. I've had the ring for weeks. I... I can't let her go. I'm not myself without her."

Mary gave him a sympathetic look. She closed her eyes and exhaled, knowing that what she was about to say would hurt him. "Christian, look around you. This is your world. This isn't Estelle's. She needs security. What kind of life could you two have like this? How would you start a family like this?"

He looked down, letting go as if she'd slapped him. "You're right. She deserves better. I know that. I'm just a penniless writer."

Mary pulled the luggage behind her, stopping at the doorway to look back over her shoulder at him. "Merry Christmas, Christian."

Turning away, he couldn't watch as she dragged the evidence of Estelle out of the apartment. He looked around at how sparse and cold it felt. It wasn't a home anymore, it was a hovel. His eyes fell on the gift that Estelle had just wrapped for him that morning. The bright red ribbon mocking him with its joviality. He picked up the note from the floor and ran his hand through his hair, looking for a sign of it all just being a game to her, because it wasn't to him. She was everything to him. If it was so easy for her to just pick up and marry another man, then did she ever really love him at all? He wanted to throw the note into the fire, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not if these were the last words he'd ever get from her. Instead, he reverently folded the note up and placed it in the drawer on his side of the bed, next to the box holding the engagement ring. With a shake of his head, he closed the drawer and came back to the fireplace. His hand hovered in front of the box, afraid to touch it, afraid to ruin the carefully wrapped paper, but inside it was tearing him up. He needed to know. He gently picked up the box and sat in his chair with it in his lap. Moments passed as he looked at it before pulling the ribbon loose and letting it open. Then, he unfolded all of her careful creases until he was looking at a black box, not noticing the folded piece of paper that was under the box. Taking a deep breath, he opened it to find a pocket-watch with a windmill carved into it, the symbol of the _Moulin Rouge_. He pressed the latch, opening the watch to find that she had engraved inside.

"Come what may," he murmured, repeating the words in the inscription. A small smile formed on his face as his finger traced over the small engraved star underneath the words. He brought the pocket-watch up to his lips and kissed it, feeling the ticking of the clock against his lips almost as steadily as a heartbeat. After tucking it in his pocket, he noticed the small scrap of paper that had been under the box and unfolded it. This was a better note than the last, but it drove the knife deeper. She told him about how she loved him, and had for years. She lamented that some day they would have to leave their bubble of Paris, her inspiration for the watch since she wanted to find a way for time to be on their side for once. She told him how she dreaded going back home to disappoint her father, but that she didn't care if he was disappointed, because ultimately she was happy. Lastly, she explained the inscription on the watch, telling him about how she had thought long and hard about what saying best described her love for him, eventually settling on 'Come what may' since she knew deep down that she would love him no matter what until the day that she died. Christian swiped a tear that had slid down his cheek without his knowledge as he pulled the watch back out with a new appreciation for the engraving.

His eyes shifted up to the painting of her that Toulouse had made, a sad smile on his face, "Come what may."


	14. Feelings I Can't Fight

New Years had come and gone and rehearsal for _Spectacular, Spectacular_ had started up again. Every day since Estelle left, Christian lost more and more hope of her returning. He finished the play with the Duke's requested ending, having the Maharajah keep the courtesan while the penniless sitar player ended up alone. _Life imitates art_ , he thought. Taking a page out of Toulouse's handbook, Christian turned heavily to drinking. Otherwise, his thoughts would wander to a dark place he never wanted to go, but would always end up in eventually. Flashes of thoughts in his mind about Estelle and her new suitor. His eyes upon her face. His hand upon her hand. His lips caressing her skin. It was more than he could stand. Thus, he drank to dull the pain. This fact did not go unnoticed. His friends debated on whether or not they should encourage him to go back home. His haven that was Paris had turned into his own hell, and although tortured artists were in fashion, they did not want Christian to become one. Part of his appeal was his hopeful nature and his love of love, but now that spark was gone and the only person who could ever get it back was across the way in England preparing for her wedding day in a few weeks.

Estelle was trying her best. Truly, she was. However, there was a disconnect between her and Mr. Danvers that she knew they would never get passed. It wasn't his fault at all. It was hers. She couldn't open herself up fully to him, because part of her still held out hope and love for Christian. Although, she figured that every woman held out hope like this at one point in their lives. That, when they had no way of getting themselves out of a situation, some white knight would swoop them up and abscond with them to a paradise where they would never know loneliness again. The worst part of it all, was that her father had been right. Mr. Danvers _was_ a good catch. He was kind to her, he would talk to her about any subject, and he never made her to feel like she was less than. Yet, she still didn't love him, and she had a sinking suspicion that perhaps he felt the same. She'd noticed little things here and there, a furtive glance between him and one of his servants, the way girl's hand lingered a little too long on his when she gave something to him, and the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks when it did. If she didn't know better, she would suspect that he was in love with his maid. Estelle and Mr. Danvers danced around the fact that they both had feelings for another, both seeing their upcoming nuptials as that of an obligation to their family. Hers to her family and helping their financial situation, and his to his family and to keep them from scandal. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them, and a friendship started to prevail, but that was all it was. Neither truly planned on ever committing themselves whole-heartedly to this. In Estelle's case, she knew that her great love was behind her in France, and she would never be so lucky as to get another. Her mother had told her as a child that everyone had a great love out in the world, but some were never lucky enough to find it, but when they did, they should never let them go. Her story always culminated in a soft glance towards Estelle's father. The fact that the same man was the one who convinced her to give up on her great love was not lost on her. In a way, she thought that perhaps he was trying to protect her. After all, she had seen what the effect losing her mother had upon him. Perhaps her father was trying to spare her that same loss later in life by making sure it never got that far. She didn't have any children to look at every day, reminding her of what she had lost. In fact, all she had of Christian that was tangible was his scarf that he had lent to her the day she never returned. It still smelled like his aftershave. Sometimes, when she truly missed him, she'd wrap herself up in his scarf and take a deep breath. The day the scarf ceased to smell like him would be a sad day indeed. It would be the day when she could no longer pretend she was wrapped in him. She dreaded the day that dreaming would end.

As she stood in front of the mirror for her dress fitting, she wanted to wrap herself up in that scarf. Her mind wandered to daydreams of walking down the aisle in this dress towards Christian. A frown settled on her face as the Christian in her daydream morphed into Mr. Danvers. Her sister watched her intently from a stool nearby.

"Most women cry tears of joy at this part of the preparations," Mary commented. "After all, its one of the few times you get to dress like a queen and no one will complain."

Estelle waited until the seamstress had left before letting out a sigh. "It's hard to be full of joy over an event that closes the door on your happiness."

Mary digested her sister's comment for a moment before gathering up the courage to ask her what she had been meaning to find out for weeks. "What did father say to you to make you come back?" she asked softly. She figured it had to be something truly impactful for her sister to leave a man that so clearly loved her. When Mary had gotten back to that hotel, she wasn't quite sure what she had seen at first. It was only after she got home and thought more about it that she had realized that what she had witnessed was one soul breaking in half, knowing it would never be put back together again.

"Nothing for you to worry about," Estelle replied with a sad smile.

"If it was about me, please, Estelle, don't do this. Your happiness is just as important as mine," Mary pleaded. She couldn't live with herself if she had caused this pain.

Estelle stepped off the stand and sat next to Mary, taking her hands in hers. "Mary, your future is important to me. Father just reminded me that you would need a sister to guide you in the future, and staying in Paris was not conducive to that."

Mary sighed in frustration, "You're lying. I can feel it, but I don't know why."

"Believe what you will," Estelle sighed, getting back up once the seamstress returned with pins.

The rest of her fitting was silent. Then, she went to call on Mr. Danvers to make a few more arrangements for their engagement party at the end of the week.

"It will be a lovely evening," Estelle murmured after they had finished deciding the details.

"I'm sure every paper will be discussing it," Mr. Danvers replied as they started their walk around the garden.

They shared a look, the silent acknowledgement that they wished it wouldn't be as big of a spectacle as their families were making it out to be. When they were out of earshot of anyone else, Estelle decided to step into unchartered territory.

"How did they get you to agree to this?" she asked softly.

Mr. Danvers sighed, looking down at her hand on his arm. "It was either agree to their meddling or be cut off. I couldn't give her the life she deserves if I had nothing. At least, this way, I can still help her out financially should she need it."

Estelle nodded. "Should you wish to... _pursue_... things further, know that I would never hold it against you."

He looked down at her as if she had sprouted a new head. "Ms. Devereux, my feelings aside, I would never do anything that would bring scandal upon you."

She gave him a sad smile, "Mr. Danvers, as your wife, it is my duty to give you a happy life. Should that make you happy, I would not deny you it."

He shook his head, "Why did _you_ agree to this? Clearly you want this as much as I do. I saw you with that Thompson fellow earlier in the season. We all thought that would be the talk of the papers."

Estelle looked up at him, "This stays between us?"

"Of course."

"My mother's sickness ruined my father financially. If I didn't find a good match, their standing would fall and my sister may never get her own season," she admitted.

"You have a good heart, Estelle," Mr. Danvers sighed. "Even if it will never truly be mine."

She gently patted his hand, "Ours would not be the first marriage of convenience."

"I wish it didn't have to be like this," he replied.

"I echo your sentiments," she murmured.

"Have you heard from him since?"

"No. However, I'm not surprised. If I remember correctly, the opening night for his play is this weekend. He's probably too busy to write to the woman who broke his heart on Christmas," she said with a sardonic smile as they returned to his house. Mr. Danvers sent her home in a carriage.

In the quiet snowfall, she thought back to the last time she'd seen snow like this. Paris. Christmas. _Christian_. She'd give anything for this not to be how it all ended. She had had him in her arms, and now all she had was him in her heart. It wasn't the same. It would never _be_ the same. She pulled her knees to her chest as she watched the covered streets of London pass by the window. He was probably in the arms of a prostitute by now. Or maybe he was working on the finishing touches of his play. Perhaps, even, he was drinking with Toulouse. The only thing that all those activities had in common was that he wasn't with her. In moments like this, she wondered if she had made the right decision. Should she have ever looked for him? Although she had been miserable before, at least she hadn't made things worse for him. She knew she had hurt him by leaving, just as he had hurt her by leaving. However, two wrongs didn't make a right. They weren't even. They were both just more broken than they were before.

Opening night was soon upon Christian. Although he was not completely satisfied with the production, it was out of his hands now, just as his current life situation was. He leaned against the wall, watching as everyone moved around him in a blur, setting up for their first performance of _Spectacular, Spectacular._

"You did a good job, but I have to say, I'm not a fan of the ending," Satine commented, coming to stand next to him.

He barely gave her a glance, "We promised him artistic input. This was what he wanted."

"But is it what _you_ wanted?" she asked.

"It's a more realistic ending," he sighed, swiping his face.

"Is it?" she questioned, turning his face to hers. "Christian, you put your heart and your soul into the rest of this production, but this ending isn't you."

"And how is it not 'me', Satine? It's what happened. She left me for a richer man who could take care of her. How is the courtesan ending up with the Maharajah _not_ 'me'?" he asked, on the verge of frustrated tears.

"Because you never give up on love," she commented. "Even when it seemed impossible that you would ever see her again, you still loved her."

"I got a second chance, Satine. I can't get another."

"Can't or won't?" she challenged. "Because, I think you can, but you won't if you stay here."

"I can't go back to London with nothing to offer her," he said sadly.

"You don't have nothing. You'll have love. Since when is that not enough?" Satine asked gently.

He looked up at her, swiping the stray tear that had slipped down his cheek.

"I know you ran away from London to come here, but I don't think this is home for you anymore. In fact, I don't think it ever was. I think it was one of those pipe dreams that you have, only to realize that it's not what you truly want," she murmured, sadly cupping his cheek. "You have the choice to get out and rewrite the ending before its too late. Not all of us get that chance."

"But, London is-"

"Is she worth it?" Satine interrupted.

"Of course she's _worth_ it. She's worth everything to me!"

"Then, go get her!" Satine said, pushing him out the stage door.

Behind him, Christian heard the opening notes of his show begin to play in the theatre. He shook his head, looking up at the sky. Satine was right. He saw the smallest star and smiled. Come what may, he was going home.


	15. The Show Must Go On

As the weekend came upon her, Estelle found herself sitting in the guest room of Mr. Danvers' home, getting ready for her engagement party. She looked into the mirror to see a woman she didn't recognize. The light in her eyes was gone and she wasn't quite sure she'd ever get it back. Everyone was downstairs waiting for her, but she had to build up the courage to face them, for when she went down there, it would be the beginning of the end. When she went down there, she would be engaged to a man she did not love, while the man she loved was in another country. She would be one step closer towards being another man's wife and having to let go of any dreams she had of a life with Christian. As she pinned a hair in place she sighed.

"So this is the day that dreaming ends," she murmured.

"Only if you continue to think of it that way," her father said from behind her.

She met his eyes in the mirror, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he said with a small smile. "I know how you must feel right now-"

"Do you?" Estelle asked quietly, "Because, if you did, you'd know that this is the hardest decision I've ever had to make. I could have been happy."

"You still can be," her father reassured her. "Sometimes, these things take time to grow."

"Its not the same," she murmured, looking down at the scarf she had in her hands.

Her father sighed, "His show is this weekend, isn't it?"

Estelle nodded.

"Well, if his show is still going on, then so should yours," her father advised, taking her chin in his hands. "Smile, and go greet your guests." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before leaving.

Estelle looked into the mirror one last time, studying her face, and forcing a smile. She made herself a promise. "Inside my heart is breaking, and my make up may be flaking, but my smile still stays on."

She stood, smoothing out her skirts and giving herself a resolute nod before making her way down the stairs to the party.

* * *

Christian made his way through Grub Street towards William Cavanaugh's house. He knocked rapidly on the door.

" _What_?" William asked as he ripped open the door. His eyes widened on his friend. "Thompson! You're back in town!"

The two men shared a friendly embrace before William asked the big question.

"Why are you back?"

"Estelle. I need to see her," Christian said seriously.

"It's a little late for that, I'm afraid," William sadly replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Tonight is her engagement party to that Danvers fellow," William said, sadly clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll get the wine."

" _No_. No, I- I have to see her," he said adamantly. "I came all this way. I can't... I can't lose her without putting up a fight. She deserves that much."

William sighed. "Come on, I know someone who definitely has not left for the party yet who might be able to sneak us in."

Christian smiled.

* * *

"You're mad," Annalise commented when they told her the plan.

"Anna, come on, darling. You know they'd do the same for us," William pleaded. "Besides, didn't you come home to make sure that Estelle was truly happy? Wouldn't seeing Christian again make her truly happy?"

Annalise closed her eyes and exhaled. "Alright. I'll put the large trunk on the carriage. Christian, you sneak in by hiding in there. William... you'll be my date. It should distract enough that people won't even notice another person at the party. Let me ask my brother if he has any spare suits you two can borrow."

Christian and William shared a grin while Annalise went to fetch them some new clothes. Yes, everything was going so well.

* * *

Estelle made her way through the crowd, but the attention was all too much. Everyone wanted to know details about their courtship, and she didn't have any. She couldn't tell them the truth, could she? No, she knew her father would resent them being informed that he made her leave the love of her life on Christmas to marry a man she hadn't even met a few weeks later. When Anna arrived and stole the show, she was grateful. Her friend shot her a wink and she nodded before slipping out into the cool January air to take a walk in the garden.

Her feet were cold in the freshly fallen snow, and she could see puffs of her breath in front of her, but she kept walking. She only stopped when she came upon a dead rose bush. A wry smile crossed her face, "That is to be my fate."

"Nonsense," a voice came from behind her. "My little star, if you were a plant, you would be an evergreen; always perfect, and always in season."

Estelle stiffened, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "You're not really here. You have a show in Paris. My emotional turmoil is just making me hear things."

Arms came around to hug her into a warm chest. She turned into him, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Shhhh, it's alright," Christian murmured, stroking her back. "I'm here now, and I'm not letting you go again."

"You... you can't be here," she said, pulling herself together after a few moments.

"What do you mean?" Christian asked.

"Christian, this is my _engagement_ party for another man," she pleaded for him to understand.

"Run away with me," Christian begged. " _Please_. We can be as we were in Paris. You said all we needed was love."

Estelle looked at him hopelessly, "That was then."

"I don't understand," Christian said, brow furrowing. "What's changed? Do you not love me anymore?"

"No! That's not it," Estelle said adamantly. "I love you, Christian. I always will."

"Then, why can't we be together?" he asked.

Estelle swallowed and looked at the ground. She needed to tell him the truth. "My father is on the brink of ruin. If I don't make a wealthy match, then my sister may never have a season."

"So you're marrying Danvers, then," he stated, "because of money."

"Christian, I don't want this," she said, taking his hand, "But, she's my sister. I want to make sure she's happy."

"Your adoration for Mary is admirable," Christian admitted. "I can't fault you for that. If I had a sibling that I cared about, I suppose I would do the same."

"I wish it were different," Estelle sadly stated.

"So do I, darling," he sighed. "So do I."

Estelle reached up to cup his cheek. "You missed your show for me."

He leaned into her touch and gave her a lopsided smile. "I already know how it ends."

"How does it end?" she asked quietly.

"With the penniless sitar player wishing he was a Maharajah," he murmured, turning to kiss her palm. "I hope he can learn to make you happy."

"He'll never be you," she promised.

He pulled her in for a long hug, kissing the top of her head. He let out a shaky breath, loosing his resolve to be strong. "I... I don't have the strength to let go. I don't want this to be goodbye, Ellie."

"Christian, what choice do we have?" she whispered.

"You have a choice to be happy," a soft voice said from behind a hedge.

The two of them broke apart to see who it was.

"Mary? How long have you been standing there?" Estelle asked.

"Long enough," her sister said, walking towards them. "When you were missing, I said I'd find you. I heard..." she trailed off, looking down at the ground. "Is it true that you're only marrying Mr. Danvers for my sake?"

"You were never supposed to know," Estelle replied.

"Well, I _do_ know, and I can't let you go through with it," Mary said resolutely. "Your happiness is just as important as mine. Besides, who says I'll find someone I love in a Season, anyway? Maybe my match isn't part of Society? Or... maybe I've met him already and I don't need a Season to tell me that."

Estelle smiled knowingly. "Young Mr. Renton?"

"This isn't about _me_ , Elle. This is about _you_ ," Mary quickly corrected. "Now, will you please just go in there and call this whole thing off before you both end up miserable for the rest of your lives?"

Estelle blushed and gave Christian a look. "Mary, tell them that I'll be back in a moment and that I'll have an announcement to make."

Mary nodded. "Alright, but do hurry up!"

When they were alone again, Estelle turned to Christian. "I don't wish to implode one relationship without knowing for certain that I'll have a future with someone else."

Christian grinned and fished a box out of his pocket. It was wrapped in green and tied with a red ribbon. "You never did open your Christmas present."

Estelle blushed a dark shade of scarlet as she took it from him. Carefully, she unwrapped the box and opened it to find a ring with a modest moonstone set into the silver.

"I thought diamonds were a girl's best friend," she teased.

"I heard that a moonstone stands for new beginnings and success in love," he murmured, getting down on one knee. " _And_... William may have told me you mentioned it."

She looked down at him with a big grin growing on her face. Gently, he took her hand.

"Ms. Devereaux, would you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked her seriously. His heart was thumping in his chest, although he knew her feelings towards him.

"Yes, Mr. Thompson, I will," she beamed, pulling him up from the ground to kiss him. He held her close, kissing her deeply in the softly falling snow.

The two of them made their way back to the party before splitting up. Estelle strode over to the stairs that led into the ballroom and tapped a glass for attention.

"Everyone, I would like to thank you for coming to my engagement party this evening, but I'm afraid you have been a bit misled," she announced.

A quiet rumble spread through the room, trying to contemplate what she meant.

"You see," she continued, "This is an engagement party, because there _was_ an engagement tonight, but it is not between Mr. Danvers and myself," she said, shooting Mr. Danvers a wink. "Although Mr. Danvers is a very lovely gentleman, and a truly remarkable catch, I'm afraid we simply would not work because we both are in love with other people. In fact, I have recently been asked for my hand in marriage by the love of my life, Mr. Thompson, to which I said yes." Her eyes fell on her father's dumbstruck face. "I do apologize for the misinformation that brought you all here this evening. I do hope you enjoy the rest of tonight's festivities." She gently stepped down the stairs into the awaiting chaos.

Her father was upon her in a moment. " _Estelle, a word_."

She took in a deep breath and nodded, following him into the adjacent study.

"What do you think you're doing?" her father asked incredulously. "We had an agreement!"

"Mary found out. She told me to follow my heart," she replied calmly.

"So you listened to the advice of a teenaged girl and not your own father?" he seethed.

"Yes, because my sister has my best interests at heart, unlike you. I don't know what happened to make you stop being a father to me after mother died, but I'm tired of it! I have never been good enough for you," she said in exasperation, letting out her pent up feelings. "But, I _am_ good enough for Christian. Christian loves me for who I am, no matter what the circumstances are. I thought you'd want me to have a love like that, because that was how you and mother were."

"And look what happened there!" her father pointed out. "Had your mother married who your grandfather wanted, she would still be alive, because they could have afforded the best treatments."

"Money doesn't matter!" Estelle shot back.

"It does if you want to be in society."

"Why would I ever want to be in a society that keeps me from being happy when the whole purpose of a society is to protect us so that we can acquire the things we need to be happy?" she asked. "The whole point of a society is to create a sense of security so that we may progress to acquiring happiness and things that make us happy. Things like love and happiness are neglected when we are trying to survive in the jungle state. Yet, society is not the jungle state. Why are we putting so much pressure upon ourselves to acquire as much wealth as possible and equating that to surviving when you can survive with less and still be happy, father? My time in Paris was possibly the happiest time of my life, and also my poorest. When money is out of the equation, you focus on less superficial aspects of a person and can form a true bond that transcends the boundaries of class."

"You are just like your mother," her father sighed.

"Is that so wrong?" she asked softly. "Mother had a happy life. The only one who seems to think she should have had more is you. It's a shame that it was cut short, and I miss her, too, but you know she was happy. She wouldn't have traded her life for anything. She had a choice, Father, and she chose you. Now, I have a choice, and I choose Christian. You may choose to support my decision, or you may disown me, but either way, I will still be with someone I love."

Estelle turned and went towards the door, pausing. She took a deep breath before readying herself to go out into the storm that was brewing beyond.


	16. The Greatest Thing

Estelle opened the door and the whispers ceased. Instead, all eyes focused on her as she walked back out into the ballroom. With measured gait, she walked over to Christian with a tint of blush on her face- the only outward sign of her nerves.

"May I have this dance?" she asked softly, but with the stillness of the room, all had heard her.

He held his hand out to her, "It would be my honor."

Together they walked out to the middle of the floor. Estelle looked at the band and gave them a resolute nod to start playing. Slowly, they began twirling around the room.

"You've caused quite the stir, darling," he murmured softly so that only she could hear above the music. "Everyone is staring at us."

"Let them," she replied softly. "They're just unsure of what to do now."

"What do you mean?" he asked with a slight amused smirk.

"We've thrown out all the social scripts. They don't know what to do now that they don't have them to follow," she said with a wink.

"If I remember correctly, the Queen said she'd watch your debut with great interest," Christian said thoughtfully, "However, I don't believe this is quite what she had in mind."

A blush settled onto Estelle's face as she looked down. "I have caused quite the scandal, haven't I?"

"No," he said with a smile. "You have just done what all of them are afraid to do. Now they have to reevaluate their own relationships, thinking about how if you can do it, then so can they."

"But they won't," she said with a sigh. "As much as they may envy our happiness, they wouldn't dare leave their gilded towers. Their security means more to them than anything else."

"Do you want to know what I admire most about you?" he asked, tipping her face up from the ground.

"What is that?" she asked.

"You were never afraid," he said. "Even as a child, you were fearless. You followed me without even stopping to worry about it. You just accepted my proposal based off your own feelings. Never once did you worry about you being penniless or having nothing."

"Because I wouldn't have nothing," she said adamantly, eyes shining brightly. "I'd have you. I am fearless because I know I would never go through things alone. As children, you were always there to hold my hand, and even now, I know you will be there for me. No matter what happens, we'll be facing our problems together. Come what may."

"They're staring again," he said, whispering in her ear.

"I should say something," she replied.

"I don't know how much more they can handle, darling," he teased.

"This is important. This is something they need to hear," she said simply before letting go of Christian's hand. They were still the only couple dancing. No one else wanted to give them approval by joining in. To do so would be social suicide.

Estelle took a deep breath before stepping back from him. She stood with her head held high as she addressed the room. "Is there a reason none of you are dancing?"

Her guests looked back and forth between each other, but none of them said a word.

A knowing smile settled onto Estelle's face, "Oh, I know what it is. None of you approve, because not only did I cause a scandal by breaking my engagement, but some of you also have the misfortune of thinking that I have traded down. Is that right?"

Her guests shuffled awkwardly.

"Well, I'll have you know that it is not I who have traded down, it is you. You all may have money and finer things, your useless titles, but they are all pointless. In the end it matters not who we are, but rather the people who loved us, because they will be the ones who will remember us when we are gone. The lot of you may have all the education and knowledge that your wealth can buy, sitting in books upon shelves or degrees on the wall, and you still will have learned nothing," she said, finding her stride, "Because the greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return."

Estelle held her hand out for Christian for strength. He took it in an instant, giving her a reassuring squeeze as he came next to her.

She turned to him and spoke softly, for his ears only, "I would very much like to leave now."

He nodded, escorting her out of the building. When they had gotten outside, Estelle let out a sigh of relief.

"You were a sight to be seen," Christian beamed at her, spinning her before hugging her close.

"You think so? I was worried I might become reacquainted with my champagne," she chuckled. "Do you think they heard me?"

"I think they _heard_ you, but I don't know if they'll listen," he said with a sad smile.

"I don't care what they think," she admitted. "I just wanted to give them my thoughts before I left."

"Where are we going now?" he asked, resting his forehead on hers.

"Paris," she said with a smile, "I'd very much like to see your show."

"The ending is rather unfortunate," he said with a smile. "It's rather unrealistic."

"Well, I suppose we can take solace in reality being better than fiction for once," she said with a wink, "And perhaps with your next play, art will imitate life."

He took her hand and kissed it before starting to walk with her back to her house to fetch her things. "I'm not sure I want to write another play."

"No?" she asked in interest.

"No," he winked, "I want to write a book."

"A book about what?" she asked as they walked up the stairs to her family's townhouse.

"Love," he grinned.

"I think it would be the greatest thing," she smiled back.

"No, darling, that's where you're wrong," he said as they stopped in front of her door.

"How so?" she asked softly.

"The greatest thing is you," he said in earnest before taking her face in his hands and kissing her like he had never kissed her before.

* * *

The house was empty without Estelle. It was something that her father had noted when she had first left on her trip with Annalise, but now it was glaringly apparent in the months that followed her engagement party. He had some idea of where his daughter was, after all, he had gone to Paris shortly after she left with the address Annalise had given him. She had made her choice, and for once he was going to respect it. The dressing down she had given him the night of her engagement party had caused him to think, and to realize that she was, in fact, correct. Her mother had been happy with him. When he watched her give the same kind of reproach to the members of society that night, instead of the burning embarrassment that he should have felt, he had felt pride. He had had a happy life with his wife out of love. He was just disappointed with himself that it took his daughter to remind him of that. He looked up at the portrait of his wife in the library.

"Oh, my dear, she is so much like you," he murmured.

"Father," Mary said softly from the door, "A letter came for you. It's from Paris."

He locked eyes with his daughter. "Well, bring it here, little one. Let's see what the news is."

Estelle's father read the note in his hands aloud to Mary. When he finished they both shared a smile.

"You're to be a grandfather," Mary grinned, "And I'm going to be an Aunt!"

"They'll be back for Annalise's wedding," her father added. "We'll have to have them stay here. No daughter of mine will be staying anywhere else."

"And Christian?" Mary asked with a raised brow.

"Well, I can't let my son-in-law and the father of my unborn grandchild sleep in the streets," he said reasonably. "I suppose he'll stay here as well."

"I'm glad that you decided to apologize," Mary murmured. "I know that was a difficult trip that you took."

Her father sighed. "When you make a mistake, you must own up to it, Mary, and I made a mistake. Your sister deserved better, and I can only hope that I can make it up to her someday."

"You will, father," Mary said, gently patting his hand, "You will."

"Now, about you and this Renton fellow," her father said with a raised brow.

"If you'll excuse me, I have some... sewing to do. Since I am to be an aunt, I'll have to make something for the baby. I better get started now!" Mary said before getting up and leaving.

George Devereux chuckled as he looked up at his wife's portrait on the wall. "Oh, Maggie, they are _your_ daughters."

* * *

Estelle sat down at the typewriter on his desk. Experimentally, she pressed a few keys, giggling slightly at the ding.

"I can't believe you use this," she said as she started to type. "It's so... foreign."

"Well, when you're writing a manuscript, it's a saves time when compared to writing everything out by hand," Christian said, settling behind her. He rested his chin on her shoulder and kissed her neck.

"Stop distracting me," she said, but there was no conviction in her voice.

 _"I'm sorry. It isn't my fault that my wife is just so tempting to be around_ ," he purred in her ear.

"You like saying that, don't you?" she teased.

"What, 'my wife'?" he asked. He stopped to think about it for a moment. "I suppose I do. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it, Mrs. Thompson?"

"I think it's especially great since we know the journey of how we got here was not an easy one," she replied.

"'The course of true love never did run smooth,'" he quoted.

"Shakespeare," she murmured. "I prefer your words to his any day, husband."

"You're such a supporting wife," he grinned, peppering kisses up her neck and face.

Estelle focused on her letter, absentmindedly replying to his teasing, "I'll make an even better mother."

"What?" he asked softly as he stopped.

Estelle blinked, realizing what she had said. She turned slightly to face him. His eyes searched hers.

"You don't mean...?" he asked.

She nodded. "We may have to start looking for a larger apartment. With all the money you've earned in returns from the play, we could afford to do so."

He hugged her to his chest, turning her head over her shoulder to kiss her deeply. Estelle returned her husband's kiss with a smile on her face.

For a long time as a child, Estelle Devereux had often wondered what her purpose in life was. For a while during the season, she had assumed it was to marry whomever would help her advance in society and make her the best daughter in the eyes of her father. However, now she knew the truth. Her purpose, as is the purpose for all of us, is to love and love deeply, putting our trust in someone who will love us for who we are. Once we deem ourselves worthy of love, we can know true happiness, because as a Bohemian once wrote: the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.


End file.
